


Of Rivalries And Romance

by shyguk



Category: GOT7
Genre: (it's literally all i can write sooooo), Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Competition, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, First Dates, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ice Skating, Libraries, M/M, Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rivalry, Sleeping Together, Slow Burn, Texting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, chatfic, i'm winging this whole fic can you tell?, jinyoung is salty, jjp, markson are fluffy as hell, youngjae is a sunshine (as always), youngjae plays matchmaker lmao, yugbam are oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyguk/pseuds/shyguk
Summary: Jinyoung was the perfect student in high school: good grades, top of the class, had his shit together. Turns out college is slightly different, especially when the music major at the back of the classroom rivals his top spot in biology, of all subjects.Mark and Jackson are adorable as hell and also happen to be best friends with Jinyoung and Jaebum respectively, which Jinyoung absolutely despises. Youngjae is everybody's self-proclaimed sunshine of a son, with Markson doting on him the most. He doesn't mind, though he's still not really sure how he ended up in all of this to be honest.And Yugbam...?They're working on it (with help from the others of course).Or, GOT7 in college are a mess, but at least they're there to help each other out.





	1. Zero Point Two Percent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jinyoung's saltiness begins it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fair warning: this fic is full of cliche and stupid shit.
> 
> Oh, and I have no idea which country this is set in, but it’ll probably be quite westernised simply because that’s the schooling system I’m familiar with. Also I'm not in uni so there's that. I mean, lbr it's a college au fic how realistic is this _actually_ gonna be?
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy it nonetheless.

Park Jinyoung walked into his biology class that morning expecting nothing less than the ordinary. Same faces, same seat, same routine. They’d reached the two-month mark and the novelty of a new year of college had since worn off, to be replaced with paper coffee cups and dark under eye circles. Jinyoung didn’t mind, though. In fact, he almost preferred it. He knew his way around his teachers now, knew which ones wouldn’t bat an eye if he walked into class thirty minutes late and which ones would fail him immediately if he missed assignment deadlines by even one minute (thankfully he hadn’t been the guinea pig for that, some poor kid named Taehyung had been unlucky enough to receive that end of the stick).

The classroom had filled up by the time Jinyoung slipped into his seat. Bag resting against the leg of his table, Jinyoung assumed his usual habit of tapping his pen against his knee and observing his classmates in a sleepy daze. He didn’t get very far before the professor called to their attention from behind her desk.

“Your test results will be posted at the end of the lesson.” Jinyoung raised his head in interest at his professor’s words. He was never considered the “teacher’s pet” (he was pretty sure he’d set himself on fire before he allowed that to happen) but he  _was_ an incredibly overachieving student. Some sense of self-fulfillment and a need to prove himself to others pushed his grades far beyond perhaps what was necessary. And when it came to tests, well… Jinyoung had a reputation to uphold, let’s leave it at that.

A commotion grew amongst his classmates, their curious voices and demands eventually convinced their professor to reveal the top score:

“98.” she sighed defeatedly. 

The noise swelled and Jinyoung could feel a few eyes on him, no doubt from the kids who had attended the same high school as he had. He knew his chances of getting the top score were high, but he wasn’t going to be a dick about it. Jinyoung wasn’t a fan of social suicide, no thank you. Somewhere in the back of the classroom, a student whistled, impressed. Giggles erupted from the students and even their professor had to conceal a smile.

“Alright, that’s enough. Can anyone describe the trends typically shown in population growths that are affected by abiotic factors?” The question commenced the two-hour long lecture and Jinyoung shook his head slightly in an attempt to refocus himself.

 

The clock’s hands inched forward, every five minutes taking years until finally, the time was up and the rush to the door became chaotic. Jinyoung took his time, he didn’t have another class until after lunch anyway, and he’d rather not be crushed by the mass of bodies fighting for the exit.

Hoisting his backpack over his shoulder, he weaved his way around the desks and slipped out into the cold autumn air. He took a deep breath, letting the sharp breeze fill his lungs and wake him properly. Jinyoung began to walk aimlessly as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Finding what he was searching for, Jinyoung scrolled through the test results to the second half of the list. Past the Ms, Ns, Os and finally to the Ps. Locating his name, his eyes wandered to the right of the page to find his score: 97.8%

_Not bad_ he thought. But his professor had said the top score was 98 and it seemed unlikely she would round his own score up despite it being less than half a percent off. So his curiosity (or bitterness) got the better of him and he began to scroll through the list, completely disregarding the names of his classmates and searching the numbers instead.

He found the 98 in the top half of the list, floating more towards the middle. Following an invisible line on his screen, his eyes fell upon the name it belonged to.

Im Jaebum.

Jinyoung stopped dead in his tracks. Staring incredulously at his phone, he shifted his feet forward to start walking again so he wouldn’t be bumped into by the various other students making their way across campus.

Im Jaebum.

_Im Jaebum?_

His mind flashed to the cold mysterious student in the back of the class. The dark-haired, piercings, headphones, i-don’t-give-a-flying-fuck Im Jaebum got the top score?

Eyebrows furrowed, Jinyoung shoved his phone back into his pocket and marched towards the library, hoping against hope the person he wanted to see would be there. 

 

Jinyoung was practically fuming by the time he stepped through the library’s sliding doors. Scanning the nearby desks he spotted a familiar statistics major, his bleached blonde hair just visible beneath the hood of an oversized jumper.

Mark Tuan looked up at the sound of a bag being slammed on top of his table. He barely managed to move his notes out of the way in a haphazard pile before Jinyoung unpacked his own bag, the thud of each item getting progressively louder as they hit the wooden surface.

Mark waited until Jinyoung had thrown his bag on the floor and plopped into the chair opposite him before speaking: “What’s up?”

“Im Jaebum,  _Im Jaebum of all people_ , got the highest score on the test,” Jinyoung huffed. “He beat me by 0.2%. Zero. Point. Fucking. Two. Percent.”

Mark shifted slightly in his seat, sinking further into the fabric encasing his body and turned to face Jinyoung properly, just as another whinier voice called out from behind: “Oh, is Jinyoung upset because he finally realised that he’s not the smartest kid in the class?”

“That’s Jinyoung-hyung to you.” the man in question twisted his body in his chair to face the owner of the new voice.

Kim Yugyeom, Jinyoung’s junior of one year, stood behind him, cackling to himself after having no doubt been eavesdropping on their conversation. His equally annoying companion, Bambam as he called himself, was leaning against the printer next to him, their smug expressions almost identical to one another.

“Well,  _you_ didn’t call him Jaebum-hyung.” Bambam shrugged. Yugyeom nodded along with his friend’s argument.

Jinyoung crossed his arms before addressing Mark once more, “He doesn’t even major in biology... or anything remotely in the sciences. He’s the campus god of composition for fuck’s sake!”

“The ‘Campus God of Composition.’” Bambam giggled: a soft sound that came from his throat and scrunched his nose ever so slightly as he turned his head towards Yugyeom’s.

“Literally no one calls him that.” the latter added, mirroring Bambam’s actions.

“You know what I mean!” Jinyoung threw his hands in the air, casting a dirty look towards the younger two in the process. “He probably doesn’t give a shit about that class because he’s too busy with his fucking music that the entire school swoons over and yet he still gets the top score, it’s plain unfair.”

“Mm,” Bambam nodded in mock sympathy. “Well, we’d love to stay and help-”

Jinyoung scoffed.

“-but we have an assignment to finish, right Yugyeom?”

The yellow-haired giant nodded in agreement. Gathering a stack of paper from the printer and, balancing it in his arms, Yugyeom waved a hand in salute towards Jinyoung and Mark before walking off to another empty desk, Bambam right beside him.

“Thank god,” Jinyoung sighed.

“They’re cute though,” said Mark.

“Mm, so cute they make me want to stab my eyes out with a fork.”

Mark only chuckled at the sarcastic reply, fingers capping and uncapping the lid of his pen with soft clicking sounds.

“How about you, hyung?” Jinyoung reached for his notebooks and pens, organising his belongs on the table as he looked up at Mark. “What’s new with you?”

Mark shrugged. He did that a lot, “Class is normal - harder - but normal, Youngjae bought a dog the other day, so our dorm is a little more crowded now.”

Jinyoung laughed along with Mark’s bubbly giggle, before pulling his textbook closer to him across the table. If he was going to beat Jaebum- _hyung_ (Jinyoung mentally threw a sneer at Bambam), he was going to have to start studying as soon as possible. Flipping through the pages, Jinyoung settled for the chapter on abiotic factors and picked up his pen.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Yugyeom?”

“Yeah?”

“Move the picture towards the left a bit.”

“Okay.” Yugyeom’s hand adjusted the glossy photograph on the page of Bambam’s art diary.

“Mm yeah, right there, good. Don’t move it,” Bambam insisted. “Now all I have to do is write a thousand word rationale in two hours. Great.”

Yugyeom laughed at his friend’s distress and reached for the glue stick, “Your fault for picking a photography major.”

“Yeah alright Mr. My-Major-Is-Better-Than-Yours, you’re helping me with my assignment because..?”

“Because I’m pitying you.”

“Sure. We’ll see what happens when you procrastinate on  _your_ next assignment, hm?”

“As if you would be any help.” Yugyeom teased, rolling his eyes as he ran his hands down the length of the page, smoothing out the bumps and getting glue all over his fingers in the process. Bambam had turned to face his laptop screen and the blank document displayed on it. He ran his hand through his hair briefly before beginning to type, the soft tapping sounds of his fingers hitting the keys the only noise as he and Yugyeom fell silent. The latter busied himself by flipping through the pages of the notebook in front of him, admiring Bambam’s work.

He stopped at a particularly monochrome-themed page, his eyes captivated by the aesthetic. Most of the photographs had been edited with a black and white filter, so the various artistic shots of landscapes and architecture were faded to a soft grey. One picture, in particular, caught Yugyeom’s eye. It featured multiple building walls; the brick, cement, and paint creating dimensional layers in the background. Evidently taken in the late afternoon, a diagonal shadow crossed over the photograph, throwing half the image in darkness. It was the only picture that wasn’t edited black and white (probably because its colours were so desaturated anyway) but that wasn’t what attracted Yugyeom’s attention. In the right of the photograph was a tiny figure, so small he almost missed it. It looked strangely familiar, the denim jacket and turtleneck, almost like-

“Is this me?”

Bambam looked up confused, before following Yugyeom’s finger to the photograph in question.

“Ah, yeah... It was a good picture and I didn’t want to crop it so I sort of just, left it? I can remove you if you want,” Bambam added hurriedly.

“No, I think it looks cool,” Yugyeom interrupted him, his head lowering an inch out of self-consciousness. After a moment of silence he continued, “When did you take it?”

“The day you dyed your hair this horrific shade of yellow, I think? Thank god I took it before then with your black hair or I would’ve had to edit the picture. You're practically a beacon, it's so bright,” Bambam laughed.

Yugyeom ruffled his fading yellow hair with an exaggerated motion and a giggle, “Prefer this, do you?”

“Mm yes, mustard is a great colour on you.” Bambam winced as Yugyeom hit his shoulder.

“You like it.”

“Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to update this weekly, but don't hold me to my word as I'm starting at a whole ass new school in two days (Australia's education system is weird af).
> 
> Also Mark's hair is bLONDE AGAIN BITCHES DEATH IS COMING AHGASES


	2. He Really Likes Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mark and Jackson become aware of their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all over the place, sorry guys

The wind was cool and the leaves that littered the ground were various shades of brown and orange. Mark pulled the sleeves of his hoodie further down around his fingers and brushed his hand against his jean pocket out of habit to ensure his phone was still there.

Jinyoung was walking next to him, a little pouty, but Mark had decided a lunch break was worth the attitude. Both of them were prone to overworking themselves and, in light of recent activities, Mark knew Jinyoung would have spent all day in that library if he could. So despite the chilly air, he’d decided it was for their better interest that they took a break. It was definitely _not_ so Mark could walk past the certain brown-haired boy who usually stood under the old oak tree just short of the library.

Definitely not.

Jinyoung was rambling about Jaebum again, Mark only half paying attention as they slowly approached the old oak.

“I don’t mind coming second, unrealistic expectations and all, but coming second to Im Jaebum is where I draw the line. Literally anyone else wouldn’t hurt my pride as much as - Mark-hyung are you listening?”

Mark hummed in agreement at the sound of the questioning tone from Jinyoung, his mind elsewhere. He heard Jinyoung sigh and sensed him follow the direction of his own gaze.

Gathered underneath the huge tree stood a rather large circle of people and, in its centre, stood the brunette Mark had been not-searching for. He was midway through recounting some anecdote if his wild gestures and the reactions from the others around him were anything to go by. Mark felt his heart jump a little in his chest just looking at him.

“Wait.” Jinyoung had caught up. “You didn’t tell me your crush was Jackson Wang.”

Mark didn’t say anything, partially because he didn’t know _what_ to say but mostly because Jackson had just stumbled and thrown his head back in laughter (all whilst clinging onto a rather unfazed-looking Jaebum). If Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say the heavens were trying to give him a heart attack, no one should be allowed to laugh that cutely. The sun must’ve been hitting his hair at a coincidentally beautiful angle, or it was the wind distorting the pleasantly soft sound that floated its way over to where Mark and Jinyoung were walking.

Jinyoung chuckled, somewhat annoyed, “This crush you’ve been telling me about for _ever_ , is Jackson Wang? Of course you had to fall for him, fucking hell.”

Mark tore his gaze away momentarily to raise an eyebrow at his friend, “This isn’t about the meat thing, is it?”

“No.” Jinyoung didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Mark laughed and shook his head, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh, trust me I know.”

 

* * *

 

The cafe was delightfully warm when they stepped through its entrance, shivers ran down their spines as the sharp tang of coffee filled their noses. Mark led the way to their usual seat by the window, Jinyoung following closely behind him. It took them a few moments to drape their coats over the backs of their chairs, but they eventually settled in their seats across the wooden table from one another.

“Mark-hyung! Jinyoung-hyung!” A rather loud but excited voice called out to them and the two boys in question looked up at the noise.

Choi Youngjae was making his way towards their table, white apron sprinkled with multiple stains, messy dark brown hair, round-rimmed glasses, and a small notebook in his hands.

“Hello Youngjae,” Mark replied with a smile.

“The usual?” Youngjae asked.

Jinyoung and Mark nodded in agreement before Youngjae beamed and walked off, leaving the two of them alone again.

After a few minutes of silence, Jinyoung spoke up: “So… Jackson, huh?”

He leaned his elbows on the table, eyebrows raised slightly. Mark shrugged in an attempt to be nonchalant, despite the fact the corners of his mouth tugged upwards purely at the mention of Jackson’s name. Jinyoung just chuckled at his lovesick friend.

“He’s cute,” Mark confessed.

“Who’s cute?”

Youngjae had returned, two coffees and sandwiches balanced perfectly on a tray.

“Jackson Wang,” Jinyoung answered simply.

Youngjae paused halfway through placing Mark’s ceramic mug in front of him, “You have a crush on Jackson-hyung?”

“You know him?” Mark sat up a little straighter, wondering why he hadn’t asked his roommate earlier.

“Yeah, he’s funny,” Youngjae said as if it would offer a sufficient explanation to his connection.

Mark could almost feel Jinyoung trying not to roll his eyes from across the table (which, to be fair, he mostly succeeded in). Youngjae, meanwhile, didn’t seem to notice, his smile growing with every passing second. He stood still, lost in space momentarily before snapping out of his daze at the sound of his manager calling him back behind the counter. He bid Mark and Jinyoung a hurried goodbye, pushed his glasses up his nose and disappeared from sight.

Mark raised the mug to his mouth, grimacing slightly as the hot coffee scorched his lips. Tapping his fingernails on the sides of the cup he now cradled in his hands, he shifted his attention out the window towards the trees outside, several of their branches bare due to the upcoming cold season.

Jinyoung looked at the elder briefly, “What are you thinking of?” he asked, a hand hovering in front of his mouth to hide the bite he’d taken out of his sandwich.

“Eh,” Mark shrugged. “A few things, none of them too crazy.”

“And they are?” Jinyoung encouraged, not unkindly.

“Jackson, mainly. It feels weird that someone knows now, but nothing else really changes because of it. Um, also - fuck - that statistics assignment is due this week, shit.”

Jinyoung laughed, “We’re never going to be able to escape the torment of college.”

Mark snorted in agreement.

“But everything’s okay?” the younger asked.

“Yeah,” Mark assured Jinyoung. _He’s far too much like a mother for his own good_ he thought in amusement.

“Good. Now hurry up and eat your sandwich or I’ll eat it myself.”

 

* * *

 

“If you two don’t shut the fuck up right now I’m going to kick you both out.”

Jackson and Youngjae glanced up from their spot on the couch to greet a bothered-looking Jaebum who had peeked his head around the edge of the door frame to investigate the noise.

“Hyung!” Jackson cried as he leapt from the couch and flung himself towards Jaebum. “Guess what? Guess what? Mark-hyung likes me!”

“Brilliant.” The word practically drenched with sarcasm, Jaebum untangled Jackson’s hands from around his shoulders. “It’d be even better if you kept the excitement on the quiet side.”

“Aw come on, hyung. Even you can’t deny the feelings of true love.”

“I can if they’re louder than my compositions.”

“But you wouldn’t kick me out of my own dorm for it.”

“It’s my dorm too, Jackson-ah, I can do what I want.”

Youngjae cackled as Jackson slinked back towards the couch in defeat.

Jaebum smirked at his victory, “Just keep it down alright? I’ve got work to do.”

Jackson nodded at Jaebum as he left the room, before turning to face Youngjae again.

“He really likes me?” he asked.

“I’m pretty sure admitting it and calling you ‘cute’ counts,” Youngjae assured his friend who tried (and failed) not to squeal. “Ugh, you sound like a teenage girl,” he teased, throwing a cushion at his friend’s head. Said cushion came flying back in Youngjae’s direction and hit him square in the face. He leaned forward to jokingly slap Jackson’s shoulder in annoyance as they both laughed.

Once he’d caught his breath, Jackson’s actions slowed until he was sitting uncharacteristically still, his fingers twisting around themselves in his lap, “What do I do now?” he asked.

“You ask him out, dummy,” Youngjae replied. “Buy him a coffee, take him for a walk, the romantic stuff.”

“You make it sound easy,” Jackson grumbled.

“But isn’t it?”

An exhale.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jackson admitted, his mind already racing.

Youngjae smiled before hoisting himself to his feet, “Alright, I have a dorm to return to, dinner to cook and a dog to feed, so I’m heading off.”

Jackson stood and walked beside the younger until they reached the door, where Jackson turned to face him. Slinging his arms around Youngjae, he thanked him quickly before releasing his friend, watching as he bid his goodbye and stepped out of the dorm into the cold autumn night.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Mark was wandering around campus, shrouded in yet another oversized hoodie (today a dark green camouflage pattern), when he spotted a familiar group of people up ahead.

“Mark-hyung!” Yugyeom waved him over with the hand that wasn’t linked through Bambam’s arm. To the left of Yugyeom, Youngjae and Jaebum turned to face Mark as he approached them. And to _their_ left, Jackson.

Stomach fluttering, Mark shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking and smiled as he reached them, “Hello.”

“Hyung, hyung, hyung, look,” Bambam turned sideways on the spot, pulling a reluctant Yugyeom along with him. “I found jeans that actually fit me for once!”

“Congratulations to you and your giraffe legs,” Jackson huffed as Bambam uttered a cry of protest and the remaining four laughed.

“Yah! Mark-hyung has thin legs too! Why don’t you pester him?” Bambam accused.

Jackson looked over in Mark’s direction, his deep brown eyes glancing at his legs before they grazed their way up to eventually meet his eyes. Mark tried very hard to keep his breathing even.

“Because Mark-hyung is an actual nice person, you dolt.” Jackson held Mark’s gaze for a moment before shifting his eyes to address the second half of his sentence towards Bambam.

Mark bit his lip, fingers curling in on themselves involuntarily in his pockets. He knew better than to think the reason was just that Jackson had been nice enough to compliment him despite the fact that they barely knew each other.

Once their laughter died down, Yugyeom piped up: “Oh, Bambam managed to get yelled at by our Lit professor today. It was hilarious.”

Bambam jumped in excitement and launched into a story of how he had been trying to escape a wasp and somehow ended up on the table (“How do you just ‘end up’ on the table?” Jaebum asked. “Shh hyung, that’s not important.”), with Yugyeom interjecting every now and then to provide more debatably helpful information (“... then she started yelling - full-on _yelling_ \- at him...”).

Once or twice, Mark thought he saw Jackson looking his way, but decided to push that thought aside, push away the daydreams and hopes practically screaming nonsensical things at him. He refused to give in to those fantasies, refused to _think_ about it. Even if all he wanted was to intertwine their fingers and hold Jackson’s hand tightly in his own. Even if he wanted to make the latter laugh and stumble and lean against him for support. Even if all he wanted was nothing more than to meet his gaze and lose himself in those soft eyes; to drown in a world meant entirely for them.

 

Later that afternoon, after he had walked back to the dorm with Youngjae, Mark was sprawled on his stomach across the small wooden bed. Coco was nuzzled against the crook of his elbow, the small white dog having temporarily made his home in Mark’s room. Mark turned his head away from his laptop screen at the sensation of his phone buzzing next to his leg. He rolled over and dug his hand around in the bed sheets in an attempt to find the small device under the catastrophe that had been caused from his (and Coco’s) restless attempts at finding a comfortable resting position. Locating his phone, Mark groaned as he sat upright, shifting slightly so the afternoon sunlight didn’t blind him as he unlocked his phone to read the new message.

 

**From: +23 199 403 280 (unknown number)**

**Today, 4:31 PM**

Hey mark, this is jackson. I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee with me later this week?

 

Mark nearly dropped his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all it's been one week since I started school and I already have _so_ much maths homework like this shit isn't even funny.
> 
> Also JJP are extremely petty and Not Interested™ all the time and I feel like I’m over-doing it? Idk they’re both filled with rage no one's surprised at this point are they


	3. It's Never Too Cold For Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which opposites find their balance in coffee and ice cream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s cheesy and gross but it’s Markson and they deserve this adorable cliche shit because _they_ are adorable and cliche ~~pieces of shit~~ okay?

Mark had difficulties focusing in class that week. After accepting Jackson’s invitation, he’d thought of nothing else for three days straight. And that was how he’d managed to find himself falling behind in statistics on Friday afternoon:

“Nayeon-ah,” Mark nudged the brunette next to him and sighed defeatedly. “I haven’t been paying attention, I’m lost.”

She just laughed, “Let me get the textbook and show you then,” she said, hoisting her backpack onto the desk to dig through its contents.

“What’s got you so distracted, anyway?” she asked offhandedly, her hands still deep in her bag. “You’re usually the one who’s always so focused.”

Mark shrugged, unsure of what to say. How do you explain that you were busy daydreaming about Jackson Wang, the campus’ social butterfly, of all people?

“Is it a crush?” Nayeon teased.

 _I guess that’s how_ Mark thought. Nayeon lifted an eyebrow at her friend’s growing silence, a smirk forming at the corners of her lips.

“Technically it’s more of a date,” Mark admitted.

Nayeon uttered a tiny noise of excitement, which was just barely masked by the thud of her textbook as she dropped it on the table’s surface.

“Really? Good for you.” Mark mirrored the smile she gave him. “Now, for percentiles...”

Mark tried to focus as he let Nayeon explain the analysis processes he’d missed, watching as she drew pencil lines all over the textbook’s graph. Coming to a vague understanding of the concept, he thanked her and began to copy her notes down in his own book. The lesson ended just as he was erasing the marks from the textbook so, brushing the eraser shavings off the desk with his sweater sleeve, Mark shoved his belongings into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder and heading back to his dorm.

 

It was fifteen minutes to 4 o'clock, the time Mark and Jackson had agreed upon meeting, which meant he had approximately five minutes at the dorm before he had to leave again, and that was only if he was willing to speed walk to get there.

Throwing his bag rather unceremoniously on top of his bed, Mark pulled out his phone, plugged his earphones into the jack, grabbed his wallet and shoved them both into his pocket. Inserting one headphone into his ear, he scribbled a note to Youngjae, collected his keys and hurried out the door again.

 

November was putting Mark’s poor circulation to the test as he wriggled his fingers slightly in an attempt to send them more blood. He walked past the library, past the music classrooms and finally turned left to approach the only cafe on campus.

Jackson stood outside its entrance, two paper coffee cups in hand. Mark couldn’t help but notice how adorably lost he looked, like a puppy searching for its owner. As he walked closer, Jackson turned, his face breaking into a wide grin upon noticing him. Mark felt his own smile grow as he stopped in front of the brunette.

“Hi,” he breathed.

“Hey. I bought coffee to go, figured we could walk around a bit.” Jackson handed one cup to Mark, who clutched it gladly in both hands, letting its warmth seep into his frozen fingers. “Shall we?”

Mark nodded and fell into step beside Jackson. After a pause, Mark spoke, “Thank you for the coffee.”

“It was my pleasure,” Jackson smiled.

Mark shifted the cup in his hands slightly before raising it to his lips and taking a sip. Wrinkles of surprise appeared on his forehead. 

“You got my favourite,” he observed. “How’d you know?”

Jackson giggled at the elder’s reaction, “I might’ve asked Youngjae to make it.”

“Ah, I forget that you know Youngjae too,” Mark nodded.

“Yeah, he’s in my communications class.” Jackson took a sip from his own cup.

“And he’s my roommate,” Mark added. “So I’d say he knows both of us pretty well then.”

“He’s caught in the middle,” Jackson laughed.

“Poor kid.”

“I’m somewhat glad though, if it weren’t for him I wouldn’t’ve had the guts to ask you out.”

The butterflies in Mark’s stomach increased. Hearing that the incredibly confident Jackson Wang was even fractionally nervous too made him want to smother the younger in hugs.

“Well, I had no idea you even knew I existed,” Mark said instead, chuckling a little.

“Huh? How could I not?” Jackson asked, a genuine look of confusion forming on his face.

“Because I’m the quiet kid, I guess?”

“So? It makes me wonder what you’re thinking of, you give off a _vibe_.” Jackson emphasised the last word in such a ridiculous manner that Mark couldn’t help but giggle. Jackson laughed along, an odd brief shriek of crazy volume, before continuing: “You’re a very intriguing person, Mark-hyung.”

If he wasn’t flustered before, Mark definitely was now. He could feel the blush creeping up to his cheeks as he clutched the empty coffee cup tightly, trying desperately to gain any extra warmth it might’ve retained. 

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Mark mumbled, risking a look over at Jackson despite the extraordinarily red face he was sure he had.

“Then don’t say anything about it, tell me about you instead,” Jackson replied not unkindly.

The smile from Jackson was all it took and Mark couldn’t help but enjoy the warm fuzzy feeling as they slipped into a rhythm of conversation. Jackson talked and Mark listened, Jackson asked questions and Mark answered, and despite the fact it was rather one-sided (much like every other conversation Mark had ever held in his life) it was comfortable and exciting and above all else, it was natural. Like their polar opposites clicked and everything found its balance. They were no longer Mark the quiet one and Jackson the confident one, but just two boys falling ridiculously head over heels in love with each other (or maybe that was just Mark).

He couldn’t have asked for anything better.

“Mark-hyung!” Jackson exclaimed, grabbing the elder suddenly. “Ice cream!” 

“Isn’t it too cold for ice cream?” Mark asked, startled at both Jackson’s hand on his arm and his suggestion.

“It’s never too cold for ice cream,” Jackson declared, beginning to tug on Mark’s jumper sleeve.

Mark shrugged and let the brunette drag him inside the ice cream shop. Upon entering, they found walls painted a pastel blue and several small tables and chairs set out. A few of them filled with small groups of people, but overall the shop remained rather empty. Mark couldn’t help but wonder how he’d never seen this place before on campus.

Mark stopped scanning the room to join Jackson, who had immediately walked to the display of ice cream flavours at the front. Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, Mark interrupted Jackson before he could say anything:

“You paid for the coffee, let me pay for the ice cream, Jackson-ah,” Mark requested.

Jackson pouted but thankfully didn’t put up a fight. A minute later, they were both seated at a nearby table, each with an ice cream in hand.

“I can’t believe you’re a vanilla person,” Mark stated, taking a bite out of his own cookies and cream scoop. “I thought you’d pick a crazier flavour.”

“And I can’t believe you _bite_ your ice cream,” Jackson responded, squinting at Mark from behind half-lidded eyes. “Don’t your teeth get cold?”

“Nope.” Mark shook his head. 

Jackson continued to look rather horrified at Mark for a moment, before explaining: “I like vanilla because it’s simple and sweet and creamy and because it _isn’t_ anything wild. Why’d you pick cookies and cream?”

Mark shrugged, “Reminds me of home. We used to buy ice cream every time something special happened, I’d always pick cookies and cream.”

Mark smiled and received one in return across the table from Jackson before the latter took a bite out of his own waffle cone. He reeled back in shock, a fresh spot of vanilla on his nose. Mark leaned his torso against the table’s surface as he burst into laughter. Pulling a napkin from the dispenser next to him, he passed it over to Jackson. The brunette took it gladly and dabbed at the ice cream he’d managed to smear on his face, grinning rather sheepishly as he did so.

It was fucking adorable.

Mark normally wouldn’t have done it, and every part of his body tensed up as he did, but he still reached forward to take the napkin from Jackson’s hand and wipe away the excess ice cream himself. It was stupid and cliche and unnecessary, but Mark’s normal sense of what was acceptable and what was official YA Romance Bullshit went out the window, and from the look on his face, Jackson’s had too.

“Are you always this messy of an eater?” Mark tried to laugh his nerves off.

“Only some of the time.”

They finished their ice creams (thankfully with less mess) and headed back out into the chilly autumn weather. Mark rubbed his hands together, trying for the countless time that day to keep them warm.

Jackson glanced over, “Are your hands cold?” he asked.

Mark nodded, “Poor circulation.” 

Jackson walked closer and suddenly Mark felt the former’s warm hand pressed tightly against the palm of his own. He wrapped his fingers around the back of Jackson’s hand instinctively, letting the heat warm them up.

“Your hands _are_ cold, bloody hell,” Jackson observed, tightening his grip.

“Blame the ice cream,” Mark said.

“How come your teeth don’t get cold when you _bite_ ice cream, but your hands get colder than the Arctic even when it’s in a cone?”

Mark shrugged, unsure of the answer himself.

“Even if they are a little cold, I like your hands. Shit, I like _you_ , hyung. Like, a lot. Like, more than anything else in this universe -” Jackson was rambling, his tongue getting the better of him, and Mark walked next to him completely speechless. Two opposites again, extraordinarily similar to their linked hands: one warm and one cold, one flustered and one frozen. A match to balance each other out.

“- and you’re perfect and I swear, if I can’t have you as my boyfriend after all this I might just have to hole myself up in my room and never face the world again,” Jackson finished.

Mark spoke into the silence created by Jackson’s absence: “I like you too.”

It wasn’t much, but Mark wasn’t one for very many words. Nonetheless, Jackson still beamed at him like it was the greatest thing he’d ever heard. And maybe, just maybe, it actually was.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, as he lay in bed watching the shadows move across his bedroom wall, Mark let his mind wander. Let his mind relive wiping ice cream off Jackson’s face, relive his warm hand in his own, relive the feathery soft touch of Jackson’s lips against his cheek as they said goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may or may not have been inspired by that one time on got2day when Jackson mentioned he and Mark bought ice cream together when they first met as trainees. 
> 
> That or just the fact that I really really love ice cream.


	4. See If I Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaebum has too many goddamn emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed last week's update guys I'm sorry.  
> And heads up don't expect a new chapter every week (school is hard rip, but I'll try for no less than once a fortnight).

Jinyoung was walking alongside Mark during their free period: “I’m surprised you’re not holed up in the library ingesting the entire encyclopedia article on evolution.” he asked.

“Don’t be silly, hyung. I can’t actually  _ look _ like I’m trying,” Jinyoung explained patiently. “I have to trick people into thinking that coming top of the class is an easy feat for me. Too many library visits ruins that image, you see.”

Mark’s response was interrupted by a voice calling out in their direction: “Mark-hyung!” An excited Jackson was waving them over to join the small assembly of people under the old oak and Jinyoung begrudgingly followed his blonde-haired friend to meet his boyfriend. 

Standing amongst the group was Jaebum and Jinyoung, with the tiniest movements he could, straightened his posture and tilted his chin upwards as he and Mark approached. He watched the latter peck Jackson on the lips, watched as Youngjae cringed and Bambam screamed “Ew!” with an impressive amount of volume. Laughing at the death glare Jackson sent Bambam (almost as good as he could have done himself, he thought), Jinyoung ruffled his hand through Youngjae’s hair affectionately. Jaebum didn’t seem surprised by the display of affection either, he stood still, arms crossed in front of his chest, leaving Jinyoung to assume he had also been informed of the new couple.

“Jinyoung-ah!” Jackson’s cry aimed towards him now, Jinyoung looked up, already suspicious of what was to come.

Jackson paused, a smirk growing on his face, “Wang gae?”

He was going to kill Jackson one day, Jinyoung was sure of it.

Jinyoung sighed and rolled his eyes, knowing it would be impossible to persuade him otherwise, the boy had the strangest liking for nicknames Jinyoung had ever known. 

“Park gae,” he grumbled.

As he glanced at Jackson and then Mark, he knew he couldn’t remain annoyed for long. He’d never seen his best friend as bubbly as he’d been in the past week and a bit. Even if Jackson was a pain in the ass sometimes, both he and Mark made each other happy, and that was enough for him.

A slight snort to his right made him take it all back.

Jinyoung whipped his head around to fixate his gaze on Jaebum: “What’re you laughing at?”

“Ooh, getting defensive now are we?” Jaebum taunted.

“Well.” Jinyoung stepped closer. “At least I don’t hide behind a fake persona of headphones and leather jackets.”

“Says the kid who pretends to know everything.”

“Fuck you.”

“Watch your language, Park.”

“See if I care.”

They were in each other’s faces, snarling with their teeth and sending daggers with their eyes, all logic blinded by fury. Jaebum shoved his shoulder and Jinyoung pushed him back because there was no fucking way he was going to stand down and just take it. He was preparing to properly punch Jaebum when he felt a hand on his arm, holding him back. Jackson had his own grip on Jaebum, and Jinyoung could only guess that it was Mark’s hold he was struggling against.

“Jinyoung, stop. We should go.” Mark murmured in his ear, confirming the former’s suspicions and trying to pull him away.

Eventually, Jinyoung stopped wrestling against the elder’s grip, but not before delivering his final blow: 

“Go to hell, Im Jaebum.”

The reaction was immediate, Jaebum roared and lunged towards Jinyoung. As the black-haired boy swiped his hand towards his face, Jinyoung felt blunt nails rake across his cheek before Jackson grabbed hold of Jaebum once again. Cheek stinging, Jinyoung hissed at the retreating figure and he let Mark pull him away.

 

* * *

Rage still boiling under his skin an hour later, Jaebum stalked into biology and took his usual seat at the back of the room. Running his hand through his hair, he looked up just in time to see Jinyoung walk through the door. The side of his face was still tinged pink, though no visible marks had been left behind. Just a soft shade that could pass as a flushed face from the cold. Jaebum didn’t allow himself to feel guilty. Jinyoung glared in Jaebum’s direction, holding his death stare for a moment before he made his way to his own seat and dumped his backpack on the table. Jaebum didn’t take his eyes off Jinyoung as he unpacked his belongings on the desk, or as he lifted his feet up to rest on the empty chair in the row in front of him.

He only looked up when their professor announced the introduction of lab partners, a concept he was hoping he could go his entire college career without. But of course there’s no escaping the will of Death, Jaebum thinks to himself, already preparing to pull his headphones out of his bag and ignore his new partner for the rest of the year. He supposed that was harsh though, it’s not his future partner’s fault that they’re forced into temporary companionship, however unpleasant it was certain to be. So he resolved to stick it out for just today, he could be friendly and approachable for one day... right?

But no, the universe decided to spit on his luck and throw it back in his face. Jaebum barely heard his own name being called out because the name that followed made him want to punch a wall: Park Jinyoung. 

Jaebum blinked, once, twice, his hearing suddenly drowned out as he cursed his bad karma. He could feel the eyes of his classmates watching him as he looked back at Jinyoung, who had already twisted around in his chair to glare at him, challenge sparkling in his eyes. Oh if he wanted to play this game, Jaebum was going to make sure his part was significant. So he huffed and rolled his eyes back as if to say  _ this? no problem. _

He could hear whispers and oohs around him, all of which he pretended not to notice. Since he’d beat Jinyoung in their previous test (a small victory he made sure to relish in), their rivalry became notorious amongst their classmates, none of whom Jinyoung nor himself were particularly close to, he realised. Good, he thought, he was much happier alone with nobody stupid to fuck this day up even more. He directed the small portion of his attention he bothered to spare back to the board and watched the smirking dark-haired boy shift back in his peripheral vision.

Goddamn, it was so easy to hate Park Jinyoung. Every part of him was dislikeable, from the shit he said to that stupid grin he wore whenever he won (not that Jaebum would ever admit he lost). And now this? Jinyoung was practically asking him to beat his ass at whatever game they were playing, and boy was he going to. So Jaebum clenched his jaw, crossed his arms and silently promised himself he would beat Park Jinyoung no matter what it took.

 

* * *

Jaebum sighed and leaned backward in his desk chair to read the clock on the wall behind him: one-thirty in the morning. Stretching his arms above his head, he stood up and made his way into the dark kitchen. Fumbling a little, Jaebum didn’t bother turning on the light as he reached into the cupboard for a glass. He moved over to the sink to fill it to the brim before turning around to lean against the kitchen bench and take a sip.

The dorm was cold, and Jaebum found himself pulling the loose sleeves of his sweater down and around his fingers as they tapped soundlessly against the clear glass in his hands. Scuffing his socked feet slightly against the old tiles that made up the kitchen floor, he exhaled, letting his mind calm down and embrace the night’s silence.

He knew he’d regret staying up this late when it was time to wake in the morning, but there were very few nights nowadays where he fell asleep before one anyway. Usually, his fucked up sleeping schedule was due to the ease at which he lost track of time when composing, and tonight was no exception. Songwriting wasn’t as good when he was using his crappy laptop, and ultimately he recorded and composed the important parts in the school’s music studios, but it didn’t stop him from typing haphazard lyrics and recording fuzzy-sounding melodies into his computer’s hard drive as they came to his mind.

Tonight, he’d ignored the countless other pieces screaming deadlines and important music assignments, and had instead opened a new blank document. Songwriting had always brought a sense of release to Jaebum, a sense of calm in its own unique way. So he’d written an entirely new piece in just under four hours (a new record for him). Despite how messy and scrappy as it was, it was complete, and his temper from earlier that day had mostly dissipated.

He could feel a hint of anger tugging at his mind as he thought about Jinyoung now. It manifested into something fiery and hot curling in the base of his chest, a force threatening to break out over the surface again. Hatred, definitely, but Jaebum wasn’t entirely convinced that was all there was. It was impossible to define, but the flame had something colder laced with it, something stronger and harsher, shining silver amongst the red rage to give it structure. Jealousy, maybe? But Jaebum couldn’t figure out why the hell he’d be feeling jealous of Park Jinyoung. Fear, then? Guilt? Maybe the scratch he’d left on the younger boy’s face had affected his conscience more than he’d like to admit. Deciding he didn’t want to confront that issue any time soon, he walked towards the window overlooking the glorious concrete jungle the on-campus apartments formed. He let his head fall against the window with a soft thud, watching as his breath fogged up the glass in front of him. 

Time seemed frozen as Jaebum stood by the window. A few drunk stragglers stumbled on the street below him, no doubt searching for the next house party to demolish their livers at. The tops of the trees swayed in the night sky and somewhere behind him, the dorm creaked softly. The moonlight that tumbled through the window was bright enough to suggest it was nearing the full moon. Its light sent shadows sprawling on the wooden floor and the walls, like little spider webs weaving and reaching out for each other. Jaebum’s own silhouette was elongated from where he paused, watching the world as it disregarded the continuation of time, watched as it froze him in place with it.

Jackson was gone for the night, he’d slipped a note under Jaebum’s door earlier informing him he was staying over at Mark’s. Jaebum chuckled to himself, remembering his roommate’s dramatic form of communication. Jackson never did anything “normally”, if there was ever a thing. The brunette often joked Jaebum transformed into a grouchy creature when composing, the note passing only a fraction of the crazy nonsense Jackson did. Jaebum smiled as he remembered the times he’s put Jackson in a headlock for those actions, despite knowing they hold a crazy amount of love for him. Jaebum found himself silently praying that Mark will take good care of the younger.

But the dorm is quiet without Jackson’s usual chaos and Jaebum can’t help but feel lonely. It’s not the type of sadness that comes from solitude, but a deeper sense of loneliness, one that cuts straight to the bone. Something solidifies in his chest as each second ticks by, setting the root of his loneliness deep in his heart, where he knows it will stay. The lack of noise and movement has stripped away all the distractions in Jaebum’s life, and he’s left with nothing more or less than himself.

That thought scared him more than he could currently deal with, and he decided to go to bed and call it an early night if two in the morning can be considered such a thing. Stumbling through the moonlit kitchen to dump the glass in the sink, Jaebum made his way back to his room, exhaustion catching up to him with each step he took. He ran his index finger hastily over the computer’s mouse pad and managed to save his newest song in a folder somewhere (he’d find it in the morning), before finally crashing into bed.

He didn’t fall asleep until the sky turned pink hours later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaebum is a huge softie okay bye.


	5. I'm Your Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yugyeom's sleep paralysis sends him to the one person who makes the darkness brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I hate this chapter but it's Saturday (or Friday for some of you?) so whoop whoop hello again.
> 
> Also yeah disclaimer I don't have sleep paralysis but nocturnal leg cramps are a fun thing that I experience okay let's just continue this shitfest lmao.

It wasn’t uncommon for Yugyeom to experience nights of fitful sleep. Sometimes it was because he’d watched that new horror movie alone, other times it was because he’d left the window open on accident and nearly froze himself half to death in the cold winter night. But tonight, the culprit was far worse.

As Yugyeom dipped in and out of unconsciousness, he became vaguely aware of the tickling sensation his fringe was creating above his eyebrows. His first reaction was to brush the stray pieces of hair out of his face but slowly came to realise that would be near impossible. His hand lay stiff and frozen on the bed next to his thigh, invisible bonds tying it down. His lungs felt heavy, some creature woven out of the blackness around him laid its chest atop his own, constricting his airways and making it difficult to breathe. Yugyeom opened his eyes groggily, his gradual awareness of being unable to move sent a jolt of fear through his body. His eyes strained hopelessly, trying to see something - anything -  in the complete darkness blanketing his room as he tried to jumpstart his sleepy mind to find an escape. He tried to wriggle his fingers, his toes and tried not to let the panic set in, but it was too late.

Yugyeom registered a slight pain growing in the calf of his left leg as he growled, a noise that formed deep in the base of his throat and crawled its slow journey out of his mouth. Adding volume to the sound, he forced his vocal chords to work until he was jerked from the clutches of sleep paralysis like his inhumane cry had pushed the darkness off his chest and its putrid breath out of his face. His relief was short-lived, however, as the ache in his leg flared and Yugyeom hissed sharply. The pain wrapped around his calf and weaved down to his foot, like a viper slithering and constricting its way around his leg. He turned to push his face into the pillow, biting down on the cotton case as he jerked his leg hard in an attempt to stretch it out. Yugyeom whimpered through the initial burst of pain before eventually easing his tensed muscles as the cramp lessened until there was nothing left except for his own shaking.

Slowly, he hoisted himself up into a sitting position, folding the sheets back on themselves and out of the way. Yugyeom let his legs hang off the edge of the bed, his hands still tingly and numb where he braced them against the soft mattress either side of him. Across the room, a lump wriggled under the covers of an identical twin bed. The familiar face of Yugyeom’s Thai roommate appeared as he sat up, running a hand through his dishevelled mop of red-streaked hair.

“Yugyeom?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

The tall boy in question hesitated where he sat, slightly guilty and afraid that he’d disturbed the other’s sleep.

“You okay?” Bambam asked, reaching over to turn the small lamp on.

As the room was flooded with light, Yugyeom shook his head a fraction of an inch in answer. He didn’t expect the older boy to notice, given he was squinting against the sudden brightness, but the redhead raised his hand and gestured him closer. Yugyeom complied and pushed off the bed, a little wobbly on his feet but able to walk nonetheless, and stumbled over the mess of their shared room before finally collapsing on Bambam’s mattress next to him. Shuffling closer, Yugyeom tucked his face into the crook of Bambam’s neck as the latter’s arms came to rest around his waist. 

Yugyeom could feel the shivers running up and down his body as he clung to the loose grey fabric of his best friend’s sleep shirt. One of Bambam’s hands moved up his spine until it found its way into the fading yellow locks of the youngest. Nosing his way deeper, Yugyeom practically melted into the warmth that Bambam’s exposed collarbones carried, and inhaled the sharp fragrance of musk and cinnamon and some indescribable scent that Yugyeom had somehow come to recognise as Bambam’s own. He wasn’t sure where along the lines of their friendship he’d mapped out the latter’s smell, but he found that he didn’t mind. It had become a comfort to him, a place to disappear to when life got shitty, when it all hurt too much to handle, when he tore himself apart. That smell, that hint of spice and wood and all things fresh helped him pick up the pieces he so often tried to throw away.

The windows rattled in their frames as the outside world raged its battle against the harsh mid-winter storm. Specks of snow reflected the orange glow of the streetlight as they fell to the frozen ground, already covered with a hard layer of week-old ice. Yugyeom sighed softly as Bambam combed his hand through the dyed strands of his hair, the pads of his fingers applying a light pressure to his scalp as he did so.

“Yugyeom?”

A question to gauge how he was, what he was feeling, if he wanted to talk.

“Later.” Yugyeom’s reply was soft and Bambam nodded.

“Hot chocolate for now?” the latter asked before giggling lightly as Yugyeom looked up at his suggestion. He did have the biggest liking for chocolate drinks after all, and Bambam knew it. “Hot chocolate it is.”

Yugyeom felt thin fingers nudging his side, so he rolled sideways out of Bambam’s lap and stood up. He reached his arms out above his head, stretching out the knots in his shoulders and cracking the joints in his back. Before Yugyeom even had the chance to turn back around to face Bambam, he was confronted by a sudden weight as the latter dumped several blankets atop his head. Yugyeom folded back a few layers of cotton to peek his head out and glare at the now-cackling redhead. He felt a knot in his chest tighten as he watched Bambam laugh, deciding to give in to the urge to join himself. Bambam poked his cheek playfully before leading the way out of their room and Yugyeom - pulling the blankets tightly around him - followed suit.

They padded their way into the kitchen, their feet making soft thuds that fell out of time with each other as they hit the hard floor. Yugyeom found himself perched on a breakfast stool and swamped under the mass of blankets as he bounced his leg impatiently. Bambam stood across from him on the other side of the kitchen bench, already busying himself with the task of making hot chocolate. Yugyeom watched the muscles in Bambam’s back shift through his shirt as he balanced on his toes to pull out two mugs from their position in the top cabinet.

“Don’t you dare say anything about my height,” Bambam threatened over his shoulder, dragging Yugyeom out of his daze.

The boy in question mustered a small smirk, “I wasn’t going to.”

“Liar.”

The giggle they shared was followed by a soothing silence punctuated only by the clinks and thuds of spoons and mugs and kettles. Yugyeom wrinkled his nose as the sweet smell of chocolate filled the tiny kitchen. Mere minutes later, Bambam was sliding a mug along the bench towards him, two marshmallows bobbing in the caramel-coloured liquid. Yugyeom maneuvered the blankets off his shoulders to balance them over his arms and pulled the mug closer to his body.

He gave himself two seconds to appreciate its warmth before he gave in to the chocolate craving (a craving he experienced far too often, if he was being honest) and took a sip. It was dark and rich and coated his tongue thickly before sliding down his throat and warming his chest. He fished a marshmallow out with his fingers, the lower half dripping and dyed a diluted brown. He licked the bottom quickly before popping the sugary pillow in his mouth, letting the starch stick to the inside of his cheeks and the marshmallow dissolve on his tongue.

Yugyeom looked up at the delicate touch of fingers on his shoulder to find Bambam standing next to him, his own mug in hand.

“Let’s sit somewhere more comfortable,” he suggested.

Yugyeom nodded (the marshmallow proving a challenge to speak around) and followed Bambam. Ultimately, they decided to ditch the couch and ended up sitting on the floor, Yugyeom cross-legged and Bambam opposite, leaning back on his hands.

He brushed his toes against Yugyeom’s knee, “Stop hogging the blankets,” he whined.

Yugyeom poked his tongue out at the older before shrugging a blanket off and throwing it in his direction. Bambam placed his mug on the floor lightly before arranging the cotton sheet around his shoulders to match the cape Yugyeom’s pile had transformed into. They carried their conversation from there, light topics on food and school and that one new anime they’d started watching together. Small talk that helped lull Yugyeom into a sense of security so comforting he almost forgot it was the dead of night and why they were awake in the first place.

Almost.

“Sleep paralysis again,” Yugyeom sighed as their conversation came to a pause.

Bambam nodded slowly, “Are you going to be able to sleep again tonight?” he asked.

Yugyeom hesitated, remembering the weighted feeling on his chest and the pain snaking around his leg and the panic of never being able to escape the creature in the dark. His stomach dropped as the fear of having to endure that again gripped his thoughts, sending a shudder through his body in answer.

“What if you were to sleep with me?” Bambam asked further, his fingernails clicking against his empty cup.

Yugyeom paused, toying with the idea. He did feel undeniably… safe with Bambam, something he’d never associated with anyone outside of his immediate family before, and maybe not even then. But there was a small part, that little sensible voice in his head that quietly reprimanded him; it scolded him for getting too close, too attached to someone who would never feel the same about him. But he decided to hell with that voice and promised himself just one night of selfishness as he accompanied Bambam back to the bedroom.  
  


They later found themselves huddled in a mess of blankets and pillows and limbs. Bambam sat with his back to the wall, his hand absentmindedly fiddling with a loose thread of Yugyeom’s shirt. The latter sat next to him, his body leaning slightly against Bambam. Their legs had become so tangled underneath the sheets that Yugyeom honestly couldn’t tell whose limbs were whose anymore. It made him pleasantly happy, the warm fuzzy feeling drowning out the fears and darkness. Yugyeom just hoped Bambam couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

“Since we’re still awake, can we please finish Kimi No Na Wa? We never got to the end of that movie,” Bambam mused.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom chuckled as he got up and walked to where his laptop lay discarded on the floor (everything in their bedroom lay discarded on the floor) and picked it up. Bambam had sunk lower into the mattress when Yugyeom turned back around, so he moved the blankets slightly before he slipped back under the sheets, adjusting to the new position. Resting the laptop on his thighs, it took Yugyeom a quick moment to scroll through his bookmarked pages to find the link. And then they were snuggled under the same blanket, sides pressed against each other, the two of them connected by an earphone each.

By the time they finished (with several,  _ several _ , tears later), Yugyeom could barely keep his eyes open. Bambam’s shoulder was underneath his cheek and Yugyeom supposed he must’ve rested his head there part way through the movie. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should move.  _ Was this too much? Was he supposed to move away by now?  _ But he brushed those thoughts away and he soon forgot about them as quickly as they had come.

His lack of sleep was finally catching up to him, he realised as he yawned into the bony structure of Bambam’s shoulder. Yugyeom heard a chuckle from somewhere above his head.

“Thank you.” His words slurred together as his eyes slipped shut.

“I’m your best friend.” Yugyeom had never heard Bambam’s voice this soft before. It almost sounded like hurt. “It’s my job.”

Yugyeom smiled faintly and snuggled closer under the blankets, before he let sleep wash over him and drag him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kimi No Na Wa is great and I had to slip it in here because I’ve watched that movie in the dead of night like twice now it’s ridiculous I need help.


	6. Tucked Away In The Shelves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the library holds more problems than just the mathematical ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter I write gets disgustingly cheesier and fluffier what is wrong with me lmao.  
> Also thank you all for over 100 kudos!! I love you all.

Bambam awoke early the next morning for three reasons:

One, the room was _bright_. Between the bedside lamp they’d left on all night and the curtains they forgot to close, the room practically glowed with natural and artificial light.

Two, his back fucking hurt. He’d fallen asleep slumped against the wall, a thin pillow the only rough attempt at cushioning his spine against the unfortunate position he’d taken up during the night.

Three, Yugyeom was asleep next to him, cuddled into his side.

It took a grand total of three seconds for Bambam’s mood to shift from annoyed as fuck (courtesy of reasons one and two) to strangely calm (reason three).

Bambam watched his sleeping roommate. The creases around Yugyeom’s eyes had smoothed in his slumber. His eyelids were closed against the light, dark eyelashes resting just above his cheekbones that cast light shadows under his eyes. His chest rose and fell, breathing deep and relaxed as he lay curled up against Bambam, knees pulled in close to his chest. The side of Yugyeom’s face was pressed into his arm, the younger’s fingers holding the edge of the blanket in a loose grip. Bambam’s eyes fell on his parted lips, pink and soft and so close to his skin he could feel every exhale running over his arm. He looked away, observing Yugyeom’s dyed bangs as they lay messily against his forehead, edges tickling the tips of his eyelids. He fought the urge to brush the strands away.

Bambam froze as Yugyeom shifted, his cheek grazing his skin before settling again. He inhaled, a small snore following on the exhale. Bambam had to stifle a laugh. It was kind of cute actually, the fact that his tall-as-fuck best friend could produce such a tiny, innocent sound. He was tempted to wake Yugyeom just for the sole purpose of teasing him about it, but the events of the previous night came rushing back and Bambam decided to let him sleep. Let him enjoy the few moments of rest possible. Between Yugyeom’s insomnia and the light sleeper that Bambam was, they were lucky to get even four hours of sleep a night, especially with the current assessment period and stress levels running high. (And not to mention that one time Youngjae came over and they all played Overwatch until five in the morning.) (On a _Monday_ night.)

Yugyeom shifted once more, groaning slightly to announce that he’d awoken. Bambam chuckled at him, watching as the former pushed his face further into his side against the bright light of the room as he attempted to open his eyes.

“Mmftoobright.” Bambam’s side felt like it was on fire as Yugyeom groaned into it, his complaints reverberating through his ribcage.

“Good morning to you too,” he chuckled in response.

Yugyeom grumbled something he couldn’t hear before rolling out of Bambam’s grip, still attempting to adjust his eyes to the light. Bambam hoisted himself up, stretching out his back for the first time in a few hours (a relief to say the least) and ran his hand through his hair to ensure the strands weren’t too messy. He glanced down at Yugyeom only to poke him sharply in the ribs, watching fondly as he squirmed away from his touch.

“Do you want coffee or tea?” Bambam asked.

“Coffee,” Yugyeom mumbled, still rubbing the sleep out of his barely-opened eyes.

Bambam giggled before pushing the blankets aside, earning yet another groan of despair from the youngest.

“It’s not that cold, you baby.”

An incoherent mumble.

“Fine, stay. But _I_ want my coffee.” Bambam crawled over Yugyeom and stood up, moving the laptop back to its position next to the latter’s bag as he did so, so it wouldn’t run the risk of falling off the bed when he ultimately decided to get up.

With a final glance back into the room, he walked into the kitchen, humming a soft tune as he made his way to the coffee machine. When he’d successfully made and poured two fresh mugs full of coffee, Bambam sauntered carefully back the way he came, very aware that if Yugyeom hadn’t emerged from their room at the smell of coffee, it was highly unlikely he was going to leave the comfort of the soft blankets to actually _get_ the beverage himself. So, rolling his eyes, Bambam decided delivering it to him directly could possibly be the only way to get him out of bed at all.

And he was right, the younger practically jumped out of the cotton cocoon at the reappearance of his roommate and coffee.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Bambam huffed as Yugyeom grabbed the mug straight out of his hands.

“Yeah, thank you,” the latter mimicked his tone as he sat back on the bed.

Bambam would’ve kicked him had there not been boiling coffee involved.

So instead, he settled next to Yugyeom, who (rather unfortunately) forgot just how hot the bitter liquid was, and cried out in pain as it seared his lip.

“Take that,” Bambam laughed.

Yugyeom really did kick him.

“Ow! What’d I ever do to you?”

A sly grin was the only response he got.

 

They decided to spend their caffeine energy on being semi-productive and ultimately ended up in the library around lunch time. Walking in, they immediately noticed a very frustrated-looking Jackson complaining to Mark, who was sat next to him at their table. Leading the way, Bambam approached slowly, lest he be whacked in the face by one of Jackson’s limbs. He was lucky though, the former only slammed his head into the desk as he and Yugyeom reached their table.

“Hey, Mark-hyung, Jackson-hyung,” Yugyeom greeted the older two.

“Hey,” Mark replied.

“What’s up with Jackson-hyung?” Bambam asked, plunking into a seat opposite the boy in question.

“I’m helping him with maths,” Mark answered.

“I understand _nothing_ ,” Jackson groaned, his voice slightly muffled by the wooden surface pressed against his face. “I don’t know how to do any of this, I don’t know why it works or how to apply it - like seriously, what is mathematical induction even supposed to _do_?”

“Don’t ask me,” Yugyeom laughed, falling into the seat next to Bambam. “I’m a journalism major, no numbers required at all.”

“And photography requires geometry at best, not whatever the fuck induction is,” Bambam added unhelpfully.

“It’s a method of mathematical proof, Gaga.” Mark turned his explanation to Jackson, who looked up at what Bambam could only assume was a nickname. “You’re trying to prove _this_ -” he circled the equation with a pencil. “- is true using induction.”

Jackson nodded slowly in understanding. “This is equal to this?” he clarified, pointing to his scribbled notes.

Mark nodded.

“Okay, that makes sense. How do I prove that?”

“Well, there are four steps…”

Jackson groaned and pressed his head into the desk once more.

 

* * *

 

Jinyoung sat in his favourite spot in the library: a small table tucked away in the corners of the second floor, hidden by several bookshelves. If it was quiet enough, it almost felt like he was alone, in some huge castle library like Prince Adam’s in _Beauty and the Beast_ (not that Jinyoung ever thought about that often, no). Either way, he liked this spot, it was quiet and undisturbed and, most importantly, he was alone.

Except for today.

Jinyoung looked up from his rough sketches of varying types of cells (the literal death of him, if he was being honest), his eyes roaming the shelves in a vain attempt to find an excuse to avoid being productive until they fell upon one certain Im Jaebum.

Jinyoung had half a mind to stomp his way over to the older, to demand he leave his area and go find somewhere else to inhabit. This was _Jinyoung’s_ spot after all, but he looked so… different. Jaebum was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall that peaked out in the gap between two giant bookshelves, headphones in and a thin paperback in hand: _The Catcher and the Rye_. Jinyoung paused and frowned a little. He didn’t know Jaebum liked to read, let alone some of the greatest classics ever written. It was hard to hate someone who was reading one of his favourite novels of all time, he realised with bitterness.

Another reason that Jinyoung was brought up short, was that he didn’t remember seeing Jaebum enter, meaning he had to have been sitting there before he walked in. The latter must’ve been so well hidden that Jinyoung didn’t notice him tucked away in the shelves when he arrived and, looking at him now, Jinyoung understood why Jaebum had done so. It was the same reason he himself had come to this table instead of joining Mark and Jackson downstairs: to be alone.

So he stayed in his chair, rather awkwardly, not knowing what to do with himself now that he knew Jaebum was there. It felt weird, to know his arch nemesis was this close to him and yet have no intention of at least attempting to ruin his afternoon. He eventually realised that he was sitting in his chair waiting, and for what he did not know, so he pulled his notes closer to him and tried to focus again.

But his eyes kept flicking back to where Jaebum sat, turning page after page until Jinyoung was so completely and utterly distracted he knew there was no point in trying to study any longer. That strange feeling in his chest kept his attention divided so he decided to call it a day, he’d find more time to study later that evening in the dorm. He shoved everything he’d thrown on the table into his bag, hoisted it over his shoulder and made his way towards the exit.

Jinyoung could have sworn Jaebum tensed slightly as he walked past.

But he kept moving, past the shelves and down the stairs to the ground floor, past Jackson and Mark at their table and Yugyeom and Bambam huddled together by the printer. It took him mere seconds to walk out of the library, to leave Jaebum and his books behind. He just wished the same could have been said about that unsettling feeling in his chest.

 

* * *

 

Jaebum had really expected Jinyoung to snap at him, glare at him, recognise his presence in some way. He’d anticipated something, anything, and had been left oddly empty-handed. As Jackson would so eloquently have put it: what the fuck?

Jaebum hadn’t noticed Jinyoung walk in, he must’ve been so engrossed in the words and rhythms infiltrating his mind that he missed it. It was only when he looked up that he’d seen Jinyoung, eyebrows furrowed, notes spread everywhere, running the tip of his pencil back and forth across the page.

But he had been stubborn, refusing to be the first one to move, so he’d kept turning the pages of his book with his head down and pretended not to notice the younger. His eyes had begun to wander the lines of text, no longer taking in the meaning of any of the words printed on it as he monitored the raven-haired boy’s movements out of the corner of his eye. No glance, no words, nothing, as far as he could see. It took a while for Jinyoung to leave, to move at all even, and Jaebum kept waiting, waiting for him to look up and see him tucked away in the shelves and launch into some argument (or hell even _physically_ launch himself at Jaebum). But there was nothing, not even as he walked right past him. Perhaps Jinyoung really hadn’t seen him at all.

Somehow that didn’t seem right, but Jaebum didn’t fancy chasing him down for an answer. So instead, he settled back into the corner and tried to put that thought out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik Youngjae's been missing for ages, he'll be back soon don't worry!
> 
> And did y'all enjoy got7's comeback?? istg every track on that album is a bop.


	7. I Don't Want To Feel Broken Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the best type of comfort comes in the form of friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gray-aro/ace-ness is coming through, so this chapter’s really more of a brain dump than anything oops. I'm sorry y'all.

“Youngjae?”

His fingers hovered over the black and white keys, the tangy sound of the piano’s notes still rang out in the air long after he stopped playing them. He looked up to see Jaebum standing in the doorway, a hand resting against the wooden frame.

“Oh, yeah go ahead, I’ll leave in a bit,” he answered the elder’s unasked question.

A nod. The sound of a closing door. Then silence.

Youngjae exhaled, shifting on the wooden bench to face the sleek black instrument once again. Tentatively, he let his index finger drop, let it hit one single key. Then another. And a few more in quick succession. He placed a second finger down, letting the notes blend together in a broken melody before he moved his hand down the octave, the sudden low pitch jarring the soft tap of the ivory keys. Soon enough, the sound of complex chords and rhythms filled the room, a slow piece written in a minor key that he knew off by heart, the pages of sheet music practically imprinted on the inside of his mind. It meant he didn’t have to think, or maybe it gave him the opportunity to think too much.

Trying to ignore it wouldn’t help, he knew that much. Everything breached the point of repression eventually, and who was he to deny the reality? This mask he’d put up months ago was starting to crack, little pieces crumbling away with every day that passed, it was about time he stepped back to look at the fragments.

It didn’t matter in high school, relationships were for the popular kids and they all only lasted a few months anyway. But now? Well, he knew it was coming, but it still shocked him to hear his classmates talk about sex and love so often. Complaints and rumours and desires, all part of such a big topic he would never understand. He didn’t use to care - how can you care for something you can’t feel? - but he was having second doubts. He wasn’t lonely, he was rarely lonely, he just, didn’t want this absence of love anymore. Didn’t want to feel like he was missing something so fundamental to being human.

The soft tap of knuckles against wood snapped him from his reverie, barely audible over the piano. Youngjae looked up to where the two faces of Mark and Jackson had materialised at the window - slightly blurry around the watery eyes he wasn’t aware he had. He hurriedly tried to wipe them dry as he opened the door to greet them.

“Mark-hyung, Jackson-hyung.” Surprise tilted his tone upwards. “What’re you doing here?”

“You didn’t return to the dorm at the usual time, and you didn’t answer your phone,” Mark explained.

“We got worried,” Jackson concluded.

Youngjae pulled his phone out of his back pocket and unlocked it to find three missed calls: two from Mark and one from Jackson. Each a minute apart, all just five minutes short of nine o’clock. Shocked, he checked the time (and cross-checked it with the clock on the wall). Nine-fifteen. He must’ve been so distracted he lost track of the time.

“Why were you here for so long?” Mark asked, his voice softening. “Are you okay?”

Youngjae paused before sighing, “Not really, I guess I just needed to think,” he said.

“About what?” Jackson asked hesitantly.

“Love. Or a lack thereof, I suppose,” Youngjae laughed half-heartedly, his grimace reflected uncertainly on the faces of the older two. In the silence, Youngjae walked back to the piano and sat on the creaky stool as Mark and Jackson followed him tentatively.

“What do you mean?” Mark asked, pausing by Youngjae’s shoulder.

“I think I’m just, tired of not understanding,” the latter softly admitted, trying not to choke on the words. “Of not understanding love.”

Youngjae felt the bench groan as Jackson took the place next to him, watching as Mark’s eyebrows creased minutely.

“How so?”

“Like, I can never understand what anyone means when they describe love. I’ve never felt that way, never had crushes or silly high school dreams or even remotely wanted to date anyone. It’s easy to like how someone looks or yearn to be friends with someone, but I’ve seen both of you, and I could never even fathom that level of emotion,” Youngjae paused as Jackson scooted closer.

“I have no idea what it feels like to be so infatuated with someone that your life just stops. The sweaty palms and stomach butterflies and that ache everyone describes seems so… impossible, so ludicrous. Surely it’s not like that. Right?”

Jackson muttered something under his breath that sounded a little self-defensive.

“Everyone’s so happy together and society makes it seem like such a wonderful thing, that I can’t help but wonder what I’m missing out on. And I want to enjoy it like everyone else, not run or squirm in its presence; I don’t want to feel broken anymore. But thinking about it, I’ve never wanted to date anyone, I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone or any of that romantic shit. Also, sex is gross.”

Jackson snorted.

“You’re not broken, Youngjae,” Mark said quietly. “Love isn’t this ‘incredibly special’ thing society makes it out to be, it’s just like having a best friend plus a little more. And not everyone needs love either. Everyone has different reactions, for example, Jackson I’m breaking up with you.”

Youngjae laughed at the sputtering sound Jackson made beside him, “What?”

“I’m breaking up with you,” Mark deadpanned, only to hide his smile behind a hand as Jackson stood up and flung himself atop the piano dramatically, just barely missing Youngjae’s face with a flailing arm.

“But Mark-hyung, whyyy?” Close to fake tears, Jackson kicked his feet in protest.

“See?” Mark turned back to face Youngjae. “Some people need romance and some people don’t. If being friends is enough, then that’s all you’ll ever need. Making yourself uncomfortable for something you don’t want isn’t worth it, for you or anyone else.”

“Maaark…” Jackson pouted, cheek pressed against the piano’s lid.

“Besides, when you’re friends with _him_ -” Mark walked over to Jackson. “-you’ve already got yourself quite a handful.”

The brunette in question whined, “I didn’t ask for this.”

Mark snaked an arm around Jackson’s waist, “You definitely did.”

“So you’re not breaking up with me?”

“Someone needs to take care of you, so I guess not.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re both disgusting,” Youngjae groaned. “ _This_ is why I’m not dating.”

The sound of laughter filled the air and Jackson slung his arm over Youngjae’s shoulder, pulling him and Mark closer to his side. And as Youngjae thought about it, amidst the chaos of dragging Jackson out of the “really really cool” music room and back towards the dorms, he realised that he would be okay with this. He would be okay, with his six dorky friends. And _their_ ridiculous love lives, which, to be honest, was definitely more than enough for him. Besides, he wouldn’t mind playing Cupid for a little while, he mused, but that was a thought for another time.

 

* * *

 

Yugyeom’s bed lay untouched, the unmade sheets arranged in the exact same pile as they had been a week ago. The only difference was the various shirts and jeans splayed out across the bedspread, half-hearted attempts at outfits that were ultimately ditched and left alone due to laziness. With Yugyeom inhabiting his bed every night, Bambam had decided there was hardly any reason _not_ to turn the additional space into an extra wardrobe. Yugyeom apparently didn’t agree.

“Bambam!”

“What?”

“All your shit is still on my bed.”

Bambam looked up from his phone to meet the gaze of the younger standing in the doorway, “I know.”

Yugyeom walked forward to hit Bambam’s shoulder with the base of his palm, “Then move it.”

“Why? It’s not like you’re using the bed anyway,” the latter said pointedly.

“But now I have nowhere to dump _my_ shit,” Yugyeom whined.

“Then just throw it over mine, I don’t care.”

Yugyeom pouted before shrugging and waltzing back into their shared room to contribute to the ever-growing pile of stuff on his bed. Bambam turned back to the device in his hand, bouncing his foot as he scrolled through his feed, hardly paying attention to the images and text that blurred past his finger.

The first night, Bambam had returned to the dorm late to find Yugyeom already sprawled out across his bed, deep in slumber. Not particularly feeling like waking him up, Bambam had carefully arranged the youngest’s limbs so not to disturb him and made room for himself. The second night, Yugyeom had complained about being cold which had found them both, yet again, settled under the same set of blankets with the same pillow under their heads. By the time a week had passed, Yugyeom had stopped coming up with excuses, and Bambam had stopped expecting them. Barely anything had changed, Bambam tried to tell himself, they merely fell asleep a few centimetres apart instead of a few metres. And they were always very nearly late to class, turns out trying to get two people out of a cottony warmth on a frozen winter morning was twice as difficult than just one person alone. But Yugyeom hadn’t complained of nightmares all week and despite their horrific sleeping schedules, they’d actually gotten the most amount of sleep since the start of the semester.

Yep, everything was exactly the same as it had been a week ago. He just had another boy in his bed. The boy who happened to have been his friend since they were kids. The exact friend he’d managed to catch feelings for.

It sure was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!! 
> 
> This update's early to make up for fact that I'm gonna have to go on a little hiatus because exam week is right around the corner (and I'm stressssssssed). So I won't be updating for about 3ish weeks, maybe 4 depending on how I go.
> 
> I want to thank you all for reading thus far and I'm really sorry for having to take a break. Hopefully you're not too disappointed, and I'll see you all soon!


	8. Safety Glasses, Jaebum-ssi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the science labs bring about unwanted companionship.

Monday mornings always brought about a sense of despair. The campus was filled with muted conversations, the steam of coffee and shared complaints over that one teacher who always assigned too much reading over the weekends. For Jaebum, that meant dragging himself out of the weekend’s dreamless slumbers to the foggy windows and slushy streets of the campus. Why he decided taking eight am biology was a good idea was beyond him, but he had no choice now. Dropping out would be the ultimate humiliation; Jinyoung would probably put up flyers just to celebrate it, so putting up with the dreaded morning classes was the best option he had. But at least he could finish early, he reminded himself.

He moved around the dorm in silence as so not to wake up Jackson (the lucky bastard got to sleep in until ten-thirty). Donning his usual leather jacket, he looped a grey scarf around his neck before hoisting his bag over one shoulder and walking out into the cold.

It took him just short of twenty minutes to get from the dorm to the science block, a huge rectangular building filled with far too many students clad in flannels and thick-rimmed glasses. Jaebum’s artistic gay ass did _not_ fit in with the science nerds, but he only had to show up a few times a week, so it wasn’t like he stuck out that badly. Still, he wasn’t entirely immune to feeling self-conscious as he stalked his way through the throng of people to the labs at the far end of the block.

Jaebum paused momentarily in the doorway, scanning the lab uncomfortably in case Jinyoung had arrived prior. As his eyes fell upon the black-haired boy in question his gut twisted, and it took more effort than he’d like to admit to steel his facial features into a look of indifference. He took a step forward, inwardly cursing the younger for choosing a lab bench so close to professor’s. Mistake number one: not getting to class earlier to select a spot at the back of the room before Jinyoung could.

As Jaebum approached, he pulled on the cord of his headphones lightly, tugging one bud out of his ear and letting it dangle from his jacket. Jinyoung looked up when he finally reached the bench, watching as Jaebum removed the other earphone and shoved the white string rather unceremoniously into his pocket.

“I’m surprised you’re not leaving those in.” Jinyoung’s greeting was curt as he turned back to his already opened notebook, pristine pages blindingly white against the bench’s dark surface. Jaebum could see Jinyoung’s foot tapping the metal bar of the stool he was perched on and reluctantly took his place on the one next to him.

“Did you have to pick a bench so close?” Jaebum asked, ignoring the other’s previous statement. When he didn’t get an answer, he continued: “I didn’t think you were this much of a teacher’s pet.”

Jinyoung’s eyes hardened and Jaebum wondered how long they were going to last before they got kicked out of the labs. But the former only inhaled softly before speaking with controlled calm: “Some of us need to be able to see you know.”

It was only after he acknowledged it that Jaebum realised Jinyoung wasn’t wearing his glasses. His face looked slimmer, cheekbones higher and eyes bigger; a strange look of subtle confidence that didn’t scream arrogance for once, he thought. But perhaps that was because Jinyoung didn’t look like he was trying, or even remotely aware of the difference at all. His posture remained the same along with his attitude, but he looked better. Objectively of course.

Not being able to think quick enough to come up with a response, Jaebum opted for silence as he shrugged his bag off his shoulder and placed it under the stool. He looked up in time to watch their professor walk in through the door. She stopped behind her lab bench (Jaebum didn’t fail to notice just how close it was to where they sat) before pointing to the edge of the room and saying: “Lab coats.”

The grumbling sounds of discomfort blended with the scraping of chair legs against the hard floor as the class collectively moved towards the white safety gear hung up on the wall.

“I know it’s Monday morning but let’s not forget the lab rules,” the professor called out over the noise.

Jaebum could feel Jinyoung behind him as he unhooked a coat from its hanger and grabbed a pair of safety glasses. Without his headphones, he felt oddly hyper-aware of everything around him, like he was searching for more sounds than just the rustling of Jinyoung’s lab coat and the chattering of students around him. It was like he’d removed a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. He tried hard to ignore that feeling as he walked back to the bench, Jinyoung only a few steps behind him. Jaebum paused before reluctantly sliding his arms through the sleeves of the lab coat, wincing as it chafed against his leather jacket. He’d always hated the protective gear, the fabric of the coats were always too coarse and itchy and the glasses always too smudgy and pushed against his eyelashes uncomfortably. And god knows what the sticky substance that always covered the inside of the coat pockets was. He knew he had to put it on, so he compromised by placing the glasses on top of his head instead of over his eyes.

Once the class had slowly returned to their places behind the benches, their professor began the lesson. Jaebum watched in a bored daze as she demonstrated how to clip the glass slide into the stage of the microscope and outlined what they were supposed to see through the lens on the projector behind her. He glanced at the boy next to him to find Jinyoung drumming his pen impatiently against his thigh, listening so attentively that Jaebum had to hide his snort of disbelief. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d completed practicals, let alone used a microscope. What Jinyoung could be so focused on was beyond him.

“Now am I going to have to do everything by myself or are you actually going to help?”

Jinyoung’s voice snapped Jaebum out of his reverie. Movement filled the lab and he begrudgingly hauled himself off the stool to the trolley out the front where all the microscopes were placed. Picking one he walked back to the bench, awkwardly gripping the neck of the device with one hand and trying to keep the plastic sheath over the top with the other. He set down the microscope a little too hard on the benchtop with a soft thud. Unwinding the cord, he crouched down to plug it into the outlet in the wall. When he stood up again, Jinyoung had returned, three slides and various solutions held carefully in his hands.

It took a little maneuvering and time to gather all the equipment they needed and a few more to set everything up, to plug the burner into the gas tap and set it alight. Jinyoung leaned forward to adjust the metal nozzle and Jaebum stepped back as the flame burned bright blue. Reaching for the beaker, he carefully balanced it on the tripod over the burner before reaching for the timer and hitting start. Jaebum slumped back onto his stool, already contemplating how to occupy his mind for the next ten minutes, when Jinyoung spoke:

“So,” he pointed his pen at Jaebum lazily. “You’re friends with Youngjae, right?”

Jaebum grunted in response.

Jinyoung opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the professor who had walked past their bench, surveying their experiment: “Safety glasses, Jaebum-ssi.”

Even through the blurry lenses, he could see the smirk that Jinyoung failed to hide. His anger must’ve reflected on his face because the latter raised his hands in the air.

“Your fault for not wearing them,” he said, eyebrows raised. “Though that jacket would look much better incinerated.”

“So would your ego.”

“Like it would burn for as long as yours.”

“Probably brighter.”

“Whatever,” Jinyoung said, rolling his eyes. “I was going to tell you that Youngjae wanted to talk to you.”

“Why didn’t he just tell me himself?”

“I don’t know, go ask him.”

“What does he want?”

“I told you: I. Don’t. Know.” Jinyoung tapped the end of his pen on the paper to accentuate the last few words. “I’m not Youngjae, am I? I don’t have all of your answers. You’re unfortunately going to have to go and put that useless little brain of yours to work and find him yourself.”

Jaebum was very close to punching the younger boy, but he prided himself on being able to maintain some self-control. Even so, reeling in his anger was a lot more effort than perhaps necessary for this early in the morning.

“Do you actually not know anything?” he asked after a moment. “Or do you just like being an annoying brat?”

Jinyoung didn’t even blink an eye, “If you’re annoyed so easily by my innocence, then this sure will be fun for me.”

Jaebum narrowed his eyes in suspicion (and anger, but he wasn’t going to admit that he’d taken the bait). It wasn’t like Youngjae couldn’t just text him, he had no reason to go through Jinyoung first to get to him. So he deemed the latter’s information as bullshit and leaned over the bench to grab a pair of safety tongs to remove their solutions from the flame. Jinyoung followed his lead, carefully reaching around the equipment to turn the gas tap off and extinguish the burner. With swift movements, the beaker was placed on the bench and a few droplets of their samples were transported onto the glass slides through a pipette. Jaebum could feel Jinyoung’s eyes watching his hands as he clipped the first slide under the microscope, searching for a mistake to criticise as he peered into the lens and adjusted the magnification.

He stepped back to let Jinyoung examine their experiment as he moved to sketch a rough diagram of their results in his notebook. Not particularly concerned with the quality of his drawing, Jaebum finished quickly enough that he put his pen down before Jinyoung did, which left him to replace their first slide with a second. They operated from then on in silence, in systematic steps with only mere observations communicated in sharp phrases. The air between them had shifted again, becoming more and more tense with every second that passed, like both of them were uncomfortable without a bickering of some sort.

Their lack of discussion provided zero distractions, which meant that their procedure ran rather efficiently; they completed analysing all of their samples much earlier than expected. Jaebum internally groaned at the thought of having to loiter around and tried not to imagine the countless other things he could have been spending his time on instead of twiddling his thumbs and sitting next to Park Jinyoung, of all people.

“Why’d you chose to take biology, anyway?” the boy in question asked. “It doesn’t seem very complementary to music.”

Jaebum looked up in surprise, small talk was hardly on his priority list, especially where Jinyoung was concerned. Ignoring him, however, was pretty up there. But Jaebum - goddamn him - actually paused to consider the question the younger had asked and decided on answering it genuinely:

“Because it’s interesting. And because it’s so different to music that it’s refreshing. It’s like if you were to take only maths-based subjects, it would eventually become insufferable,” he paused. “Also, Jackson said he would do it with me but he ditched.”

Jinyoung snorted. “Sounds incredibly like Jackson.”

“You’re telling me. He decided that coaching would suit him better than physiotherapy, as if there’s any difference when it comes to Jackson.”

“Don’t say that to him, you might get an injury as brutal as nails to the face.”

So this was where they were going. Guilt threatened to rise in the back of Jaebum’s throat like bile, but he swallowed it down, pushing it out of his mind. Trust Park Jinyoung to turn their conversation into another mind game of his.

So stubborn as ever, Jaebum rolled his eyes and answered: “As if that could be considered ‘brutal’.”

“Are you actually sadistic?” Jinyoung’s sudden outburst took him by surprise. “Does scratching someone’s face not seem _somewhat_ harsh to you?” Jaebum sat there speechless as Jinyoung shook his head in disbelief and rose from his chair, “You’re fucking crazy.”

And with that, Jinyoung slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out the door without sparing so much as a backward glance at anyone in the room.

Jaebum watched the door swing shut from where he sat alone at the bench. A few wandering eyes had flittered over to him but lingered for only a few seconds before the sound of their professor dismissing the class drew them away.

_Well, you really fucked up this time,_ Jaebum thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's baaaack??  
> I want to thank you all for waiting so patiently and for all your endless support, every single one of you who has been reading this fic makes me so happy ♡
> 
> So I’m going to resume trying to update weekly (every Saturday, though for some of you due to time zones it could be every Friday).


	9. Give Me Your Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the ice skating rink results in even more fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a game called "How Much Cheesier Can This Fic Get?"  
> This is horrible I'm sorry lmao

The sky was cloudy and drab and the sharp breeze that nipped at Mark’s skin beneath his clothes was icy cold. He shivered before casting his eyes back down at a tugging sensation on his arm, pulling him forward.

“Maaark.” Another tug.

“Jackson,” Mark laughed at the boy attached to his arm who was nearly tripping over his own feet out of eagerness. “We’re almost there, calm down.”

“I’m just really excited,” Jackson called over his shoulder.

“I know,” Mark giggled. And despite his words, his own stomach tightened a little in anticipation as they approached the simple grey building of the ice skating rink, Jackson’s other hand pointing enthusiastically at it.

The idea had originally been Jackson’s, though it had taken very minimal persuasion to convince Mark to agree to come. He’d been ice skating multiple times with his family back at home during the winter when he was younger. He still had distinct memories of racing his siblings back and forth across the rink, memories of his padded coat and itchy gloves, and of course, the biting sensation of shredded ice being shoved down the back of his shirt. So yes, it had been very easy to persuade Mark to come, even if winter was nearly over (“Shhh, hyung, that’s not important,” Jackson had hushed).

Almost as easily, Jackson pulled Mark through the doors of the building, the latter shuddering at the sudden drop in temperature despite the fact he was submerged beneath layers and layers of fabric. Jackson appeared unaffected by the cold from where he stood still in the doorway (for the first time in probably hours). Mark was suddenly reminded that this was Jackson’s first time ice skating and promptly took the lead in the direction of the benches where they could dump their belongings. Mark sat Jackson down on the hard wooden surface, instructing his boyfriend not to move from that spot and to mind their things whilst he went to hire their skates.

He walked down one length of the rink to where the public skates were rented out, ruffling his newly dyed dark hair. When he reached the counter and the shelves of ice skates lining the wall behind it, Mark gave the worker their shoe sizes and the hiring fee. He tapped his foot and slung his hands in his coat pocket while he watched the worker unhook two pairs of ice skates and slide them over the bench towards him. Smiling his thanks, Mark awkwardly balanced the shoes in his arms to make the trek back to where he’d left Jackson.

Only, when he arrived, he found Jackson at the rink’s edge watching the various groups of people skate past. Their bags and extra socks (Mark had bad circulation alright?) lay abandoned on the cold bench behind him. Jackson turned and smiled at Mark sheepishly as he approached.

The latter chuckled at Jackson’s endearment towards the rink before placing the skates on the floor and taking a seat on the bench. Jackson joined him as he slid his shoes off and pushed his feet into the rented skates, thick socks and all. The laces were a blur in his hands, the old habit of winding and looping the string coming back to his muscles even after such a long time. The same, however, could not have been said for Jackson and eventually, Mark gave up and knelt down in front of the younger to lace up his skates for him.

“Tell me if it’s too tight, yeah?” Mark said, tugging on the strings.

Jackson hummed in response and watched the blue-haired boy loop the laces around the seemingly never-ending rows of metal prongs before knotting them in a tight bow over his ankle. A minute later, the other skate was tied and Jackson pushed himself to his feet, Mark offering a hand for balance.

To his credit, Jackson actually managed to walk relatively well on his skates, Mark thought, given he’d never even been in the proximity of ice skates before today. As they hobbled clumsily towards the rink’s entrance Jackson’s gloved hand gripping Mark’s forearm, the elder asked:

“Your skates feel okay? Not too loose?”

“They’re good, I promise,” Jackson smiled at Mark’s concern. “You tied them up perfectly so don’t worry.”

“I just don’t want you injuring your ankles,” Mark replied. “It’s painful business.”

“That sounded like it came from personal experience.”

“Oh, it did.”

Their laughter died down just as they reached the open entry where the ice lay glittering and cold before them. Mark took the lead and stepped out onto the ice first, pushing his weight on one foot gingerly to test his balance before moving to place his entire body within the rink’s boundaries. He skated forward and pivoted back to the face the entrance, the movement returning to his limbs as muscle memory.

He offered a hand to Jackson who clutched it firmly, used it to stabilise himself between Mark and the rink’s barrier as he stepped out onto the ice. Mark felt Jackson’s grip tighten on his hand as he experienced the initial out of balance sensation of literally standing on blades attached to shoes on perhaps the slipperiest surface on the planet. Mark giggled as he locked his elbow to keep Jackson upright for long enough so they could move out of the way of the entrance.

“This feels so weird,” Jackson muttered, more to himself than to Mark.

Mark chuckled, an action followed by a small stumble that also sent him reaching for the barrier for stability.

“Careful,” Jackson warned between heaves of his laughter.

“It’s definitely been a few years since I’ve done this,” Mark admitted. “But let’s get you moving, yeah?”

Mark slid away from the wall and back to Jackson’s exposed side. Taking his hand once more, he showed Jackson how to position his feet in a V shape and use each foot to push himself forwards. A slow unsteady circle around the rink later, Mark had regained his ability to skate without wobbling, which proved to be super helpful as Jackson was still slipping and sliding next to him. So Mark skated ahead and spun on his blade, turning to face the brunette with his back to the rest of the rink.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

Jackson took his free hand off the rink’s barrier and into Mark’s, his body now completely free of the wall. The younger held eye contact with him until Mark glanced back down at his feet and the rented skates (which happened to be a very deep shade of blue that matched his hair). He wiggled his feet slightly before sweeping them outwards in half circles, pulling Jackson by both of his hands as he slowly skated backward.

They circled the rink a few more times, Mark alternating between staring at his feet and glancing over his shoulder to ensure they didn’t run anyone over. Jackson was still unsteady in his hands, but given it had been thirty minutes at a maximum, he was doing much better than he’d expected. They were on the seventh lap when Mark turned on one of the corners sooner than necessary, dragging both of them out towards the middle of the rink.

“Mark!” Jackson called out in surprise.

Mark looked up at his exclamation before offering him a smile. “You’ll be fine,” he assured the brunette currently clasping his hands for dear life.

He laughed at the face Jackson pulled.

However, it only took them a few minutes away from the safety of the barrier before Jackson gained enough confidence to loosen his grip on Mark’s hands and let go entirely. He watched Jackson skate ahead of him (with his ankles bent horrifically inwards to keep his balance) feeling oddly proud. He supposed Jackson’s athleticism helped, but he still wound up being vastly impressed at how quickly the former had gotten used to ice skating. The boy ahead of him seemed to think the same thing as he turned his head to look back at Mark, a smile of pure excitement plastered across his face. But they both thought too soon because for the split second that Jackson glanced behind him, his balance veered backward. So, in true Jackson-style, he stumbled, his centre of gravity shifting until it brought him down to meet the cold floor in one swift and sudden slip of his blades.

Mark skated over to where the younger boy now sat on the ice, flecks of white littering the back of his jacket. Mark let one foot drag behind him, cutting into the ice to slow his momentum until he reached Jackson. He’d never been able to do the proper elegant stop but as long as he didn’t crash into anything - or anyone - he figured it was a win. As for the boy on the ground at his feet… perhaps not.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked, concern lacing his words.

“I think I quite literally fell for you,” Jackson blinked up at him in fake innocence before taking Mark’s extended hand to pull himself off the ice.

“That was horrible,” Mark laughed. “Let’s take a break, shall we?” His suggestion was encouraged by Jackson’s nod and together, they skated to the rink’s exit.

Once they were both on solid ground again, Mark took his free hand and brushed some of the ice off Jackson’s back and his jeans. He straightened up only at the sound of the latter speaking:

“Mark, they sell hot chocolate!”

Mark really didn’t have a choice: Jackson’s hand was grasped in his and without it, the brunette probably would end up tripping over his own feet and hurt himself again. So the two of them walked over to the snack bar, albeit rather slowly given the skates. At the counter, Jackson ordered two hot chocolates and moved to pay.

“Jackson let me-” Mark put his hand on his shoulder.

“No, you paid for the skates,” Jackson interrupted him. “And you helped me off my ass when I fell over,” he added in afterthought.

Mark laughed, “Okay, fine.”

They took the hot chocolates in their paper cups and made their way to a table. Mark placed his beverage on the hard surface as he slumped into the chair, resting his feet with blisters he could already feel forming. He pulled his gloves off as Jackson sat down across from him, sipping from the lid of his cup. Mark took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked with one hand, holding his drink in the other before raising it to his lips.

He found three new messages from Jinyoung, no doubt the cause of the vague buzzing he’d felt against his thigh when they were on the ice. Mark chuckled softly as he read through the former’s texts.

“What’s up?” Jackson asked, his tone tilted upwards in curiosity.

“Jinyoung’s complaining about Jaebum again,” Mark explained, sliding his phone across the table for Jackson to see. Mark watched the younger read the messages over the top of his hot chocolate, the heat seeping into his bare hands.

Jackson laughed that adorable high-pitched giggle of his, “They’re really something, huh?” he said.

Mark rolled his eyes, “Jinyoung just holds grudges for too long.”

“And Jaebum-hyung’s too stubborn.”

“A match made in heaven.”

“A match made in hell, more like.”

Mark typed out his reply as the two of them shared identical grins of amusement, the steam of their hot chocolates wafting in the air between them. It really only occurred to him later after he and Jackson had finished their drinks and entered the rink again, that Mark wondered if their friends actually hated each other as much as they said they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *history maker plays*  
> For all my ice skating nerds and markson readers


	10. I Guess We Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bambam wins and Yugyeom whines.

The auditorium was humming with the chattering and murmuring of the crowd that had begun to fill in the large space over an hour ago. People moved slowly, observing the various photography displays lining the walls, collected in albums and placed on black-covered tables. Yugyeom stood amongst it all, a little claustrophobic if anything, but abuzz with excitement that drowned out the uncomfortable feeling of being caught in a large group of people. He could see Bambam’s portfolio on the table nearby and, despite having already stopped to look at it when he first walked in, he wove his way through the crowd to reach it again.

He stopped in front of the table, flipping the pages over to give his hands something to do, not particularly because he wanted to see all of the photographs. Yugyeom had literally watched Bambam create it over the semester, even helped make some of the pages he traced beneath his fingertips.

“Yugyeom-ah!” a voice called from behind him. Youngjae and Jaebum were standing next to him a second later.

“Here for Bambam?” Youngjae asked.

“Who else?” Yugyeom laughed.

Together the three of them wandered around the auditorium, commenting on the different displays. They were joined by Mark and Jackson five minutes before the showcase officially started, and Jinyoung found them a moment after.

All six of them slipped into chairs in one of the back rows just as the guest judge stepped out to greet the audience. The presentation went by slowly as all presentations do, the judge going on about “what an honour it is” and “how impressive all the submissions were” in that droning voice that flowed through one of Yugyeom’s ears and instantly out the other. He tuned out the guest judge presenting the multiple awards and categories and focused, instead, on the sounds around him. The auditorium was quieter now that the showcase was underway, but there were still people lingering around the displays, talking amongst themselves in hushed voices that carried only as far as the few back rows where he sat.

Yugyeom didn’t know how much time had passed, but he was pulled out of his reverie by Youngjae’s elbow digging into his ribs. He snapped his attention back to the speaker and the showcase proceeding before him.

“The final award,” the guest judge spoke, his magnified voice echoing around the near-silent amphitheater. “Goes to the Photographer of the Year.”

In the pause that followed, Yugyeom leaned forward in his chair slightly, his hands clutching the edge of the plastic underneath his thighs.

“The Photographer of the Year is awarded to Kunpimook Bhuwakul.”

If Yugyeom’s ecstatic applauding (and mild stomping) didn’t bring the roof down, Jackson’s cheers most definitely would have. All six of them had jumped in triumph as Bambam walked up to accept his award. Even from the back of the hall, when Bambam turned to faced them, Yugyeom could see the delighted gleam in his best friend’s eyes and the tint of pink on his cheekbones. His own cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

It was an impatient couple of minutes whilst they waited for the showcase to finish. Yugyeom was bouncing his leg in his chair, his mind zoned out once again. But then the guest judge had concluded his final speech and Yugyeom was weaving through the crowd again, barely aware of the others following him.

He found Bambam hovering by a table (the same table his portfolio was displayed on, Yugyeom realised) talking to someone he could only assume was another guest judge. As he approached, the stranger inclined his head to Bambam once before walking away.

Yugyeom sped up. He was almost running by the time Bambam looked up and noticed him. The latter’s face broke into a smile that Yugyeom knew was identical to his own plastered across his face. Bambam raised his hand, an offer for a high-five no doubt, but Yugyeom had made his mind up long before he collided with the former.

The force of his hug nearly toppled Bambam’s balance, and Yugyeom took a few steps forward to compensate for the few backward the redhead had taken to stay upright. Yugyeom could feel breaths of laughter tickle his ear from the boy in his arms as he tightened his grip around Bambam’s waist.

“You won,” he chuckled softly in his ear..

“I won,” Bambam repeated sounding somewhat dazed. Yugyeom could practically hear his grin.

“I told you you’d win.”

Bambam only laughed in response.

A loud cry had Yugyeom pulling away, but he didn’t make it very far before the body of Choi Youngjae enveloped them both. When the eldest of the three moved back, Yugyeom reluctantly unwound his arms from around Bambam and took half a step back.

“Good job, kid,” Jaebum said ruffling Bambam’s hair, the others all following in behind him to congratulate the younger. Yugyeom wanted to coo at Bambam’s steadily increasing rosy cheeks.

Before Yugyeom had the chance to, however, Jackson announced he would take them all out for dinner to celebrate. Bambam whooped and Yugyeom took the opportunity to loop his arm over the former’s shoulders and pull him closer into his side.

 

They separated once they walked into the restaurant, only to be squashed next to each other again in the booth. Yugyeom had his thigh pressed up against Bambam’s and it was an effort not to constantly bump elbows when the food arrived.

Jinyoung was grinning at the appearance of the meat, a grin that Yugyeom knew very well, though it usually meant he had to start running for his life. But at food, well... Yugyeom nudged Bambam to clear up his confusion.

“There was one time Jackson-hyung and I went out to eat meat without him.” Bambam paused to raise his chopsticks to his mouth. “He’s held a grudge ever since,” he finished, his voice muffled by the food he was eating.

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry anymore,” Yugyeom nodded in the direction of Jinyoung where he sat across the table, reaching for the meat platter.

As if on cue, Jinyoung looked up to meet his eyes before lifting his eyebrows in one swift motion as if to say  _ try me _ . Yugyeom just raised his hands in surrender and shrugged. Next to him, Bambam choked on his food.

The evening passed calmly, or as calm as it could be with their group of seven. Jackson’s wild storytelling, Youngjae’s laughter and multiple conversations occurring at once didn’t make them the quietest diners, but Jaebum and Jinyoung didn’t start another brawl and they didn’t get kicked out, so they unanimously deemed the evening a success.

Yugyeom couldn’t have been happier.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me one more time why you can’t just wash the dye out?” Bambam addressed the taller boy sat on the edge of their bathtub.

“Because it’s  _ not _ washing out,” Yugyeom whined.

“Why not wait for it to grow out then?”

“Because that takes too long.”

“You’re such a baby, Gyeom-ie” Bambam laughed.

Yugyeom just huffed and ran a hand through his hair. The morning light tumbled in through the small bathroom window, brushing the tiny room in a golden haze. It bounced off the tiles, warmed the porcelain and shone through Yugyeom’s fading locks, painting them even brighter shades of yellow than normal.

Balanced on the edge of the sink was a box of black hair dye, a cheap ten dollar permanent dye from the local store that Yugyeom had left early in the morning to buy after announcing that he wanted to colour his hair. So that’s where they were, Yugyeom reaching over to grab the box before Bambam joined him to read the instructions on the back.

“Go change into an old shirt,” Bambam said, taking the box from Yugyeom’s hands and shooing him back into their bedroom.

As Yugyeom left, Bambam opened the box, laying all of its contents out on the edge of the sink before throwing the empty box in the bin. He was sliding the latex gloves over his hands when Yugyeom walked back into the bathroom.

“Really?” Bambam asked incredulously. “A white shirt?”

“It’s the only old shirt I have!” Yugyeom picked at a few holes in the oversized piece of fabric hanging off his torso.

“You literally want to dye your hair black,” Bambam pointed out.

“It’s an old shirt like you said!” Yugyeom protested. “Also,  _ you’re _ the one dyeing my hair so if you don’t want it to be stained, it’s all on you.”

“Touché.”

Bambam removed the lid from the bottle before squeezing the developer and the dye into it. Screwing the applicator onto the bottle, he handed it over to Yugyeom who shook it vigorously to mix the two colloids together. Once he was done, Bambam took the bottle back and sat the younger on the edge of the bathtub again (he would never have been able to reach the top of his head if he didn’t) and squirted a small dollop of dye on his hair. He took his free hand and started to massage the cream-coloured substance into Yugyeom’s scalp, the hue nearly matching his faded locks. Yugyeom shivered slightly as Bambam added more of the dye to his hair, coating the strands so thoroughly that they stood up in strange angles. He paused, making eye contact with Yugyeom in the bathroom mirror before the two of them burst into laughter and Bambam continued to run his fingers through the sticky mop of hair in front of him.

Once he was certain every possible thread on Yugyeom’s hair was covered, Bambam took a step back.

“Done.” He looked at the bottle in his hands, still quite heavy filled with unused dye. “There’s still heaps left, though.”

“Then let’s dye your hair,” Yugyeom said.

Bambam raised his eyebrows, “This?” he asked pulling on a strand of his own red hair.

“No, your underarm hair,” Yugyeom replied sarcastically.

“The red’s kinda dark, don’t you think? I’m not sure it will work as well as yours.”

“It’s the darkest colour of hair dye there is, it’ll work,” Yugyeom assured him stubbornly.

Bambam paused to consider it before shrugging and said, “Why not?”

Yugyeom beamed at him and Bambam nearly went weak to the knees. The sunlight should  _ not _ be allowed to kiss his skin that way or sparkle his eyes so mesmerisingly. Not fair Mother Nature, not fair.

It was a tricky couple of minutes transferring the gloves from Bambam’s hands to Yugyeom’s. As hard as they tried, Bambam could feel the creamy concoction smear over his fingers. But now it was his turn to perch on the bathtub’s edge as Yugyeom ran the cold substance through his hair, his fingertips massaging Bambam’s scalp lightly. Silence overcame them and he closed his eyes, leaning into Yugyeom’s touch. Bambam could hear the birds chirping faintly outside the window and feel the warmth of the morning sun upon his face, casting red shadows on the back of his eyelids.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually, Yugyeom withdrew his hands from Bambam’s head and muttered that he was done. The latter opened his eyes blurrily to see Yugyeom strip the gloves off his hands and dispose of them with the now-empty bottle. Where Bambam’s hair was covered in pale dye, Yugyeom’s had oxidised with the air slightly and now resembled a dark purplish colour.

They waited around for fifteen minutes, trying not to get the dye everywhere before washing it out. A couple of minutes (and two towels splotched with black) later, Bambam stood facing the mirror running his hand through his dark hair, the reflection of Yugyeom informing him that he was doing the same thing. The two of them had purple stains on their hands and, as Bambam predicted, the old white shirt Yugyeom had on was covered in dye.

“What’d I tell you?” Yugyeom smiled at Bambam through the mirror. “The black did work well on the red.”

“It worked very well on your neck too,” Bambam laughed, jabbing his finger at the stains on Yugyeom’s skin.

“You have some too!” Yugyeom’s fingers found their way onto the nape of Bambam’s neck.

“I guess we match.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was getting sick of the fact that Yugbam’s hair colour in this fic didn’t match up to their current colour, so here we are?
> 
> None of them better dye their hair again anytime soon or I'm literally gonna change it without context and we'll all just have to deal with it :')


	11. I Trust Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which part one of Youngjae's Grand Plan begins.

In all honesty, Youngjae thought to himself, he really was a fucking genius. He was waiting outside the music studios, leaning against the - probably very dirty - wall of the building’s exterior. He checked the time on his phone before tossing it lightly between his hands impatiently. Most of the classes had ended five minutes ago, so he knew he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

As if on cue, Youngjae spotted the person he’d been looking for. Even from far away, the leather jacket, headphones and ruffled brown hair gave him away immediately: Jaebum. It took awhile for the eldest to walk close enough to notice him, but once he was within range Youngjae raised a hand in greeting and smiled at the responding nod he received.

“Hey, Youngjae-ah.”

“Hey.” Youngjae pushed off the wall and slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “So, I wanted to ask you a favour.”

Jaebum paused, “Actually?”

“Yeah?” Youngjae inquired tilting his head in mild confusion.

“Jinyoung was actually telling the truth,” Jaebum said, more to himself than Youngjae. The latter had to suppress a smile.

Persuading Jinyoung to deliver his message to Jaebum had gone about as well as he had expected. Youngjae had been present with Mark when Jinyoung had complained about his new lab partner, and the oh-so-dreaded day when their first lab experiment would take place. So, early one morning he’d asked Jinyoung to pass on his message and when he’d tried to protest, Youngjae had run off exclaiming he was late for his communications lecture and that he’d talk to him later.

That part wasn’t really necessary in the greater scheme of his plans, but it didn’t hurt pushing Jaebum and Jinyoung closer together. He wasn’t even guaranteed it was going to work, Jinyoung could have just ignored his request entirely, but bless whatever greater force had convinced him to talk to older boy standing in front of him, even if it hadn’t gone so well from the look of things.

“Have you noticed anything with Yugyeom and Bambam lately?” Youngjae continued.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Jaebum replied.

“Right, the ordinary being ridiculously oblivious.”

“Yeah I suppose,” Jaebum mused. “What’s your point though?”

“Well, I can’t be absolutely sure that they’re not  _ not _ pining over each other. And I need you -” he gestured his hand towards the elder. “- to wheedle it out of Bambam.”

Jaebum hesitated, “Why?” He was clearly trying to find a way out of it.

“Because they’re both killing themselves by not doing anything about it,” Youngjae explained, getting a little exasperated just thinking about his two younger friends. “It’s almost painful to watch them act so oblivious to each other’s feelings.”

Jaebum just rolled his eyes, “Why me? Can’t you rope Jackson into doing it?”

“Because Jackson’s a horrible actor and, before you ask, no, there’s no one else who could do it that wouldn’t give Bambam reason a to be suspicious,” Youngjae answered as Jaebum opened his mouth to protest.

But he closed it and paused whilst Youngjae watched him mull it over in silence. After a moment Jaebum sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Fine, I’ll try,” he agreed.

“Great! Thanks hyung, you’re the best,” Youngjae grinned.

Just as he began to walk away, the brunette called out to him, “What about Yugyeom?” 

Youngjae turned back around to face Jaebum as he answered the elder’s question, “I’ve asked Jinyoung to do it.”

Jaebum froze before nodding tightly, “Okay.”

Alright, maybe Youngjae hadn’t exactly told the truth. He was technically  _ on his way _ to ask Jinyoung to talk to Yugyeom. But Jaebum didn’t need to know that. Getting him to think Jinyoung had already taken up the task would’ve been perhaps the only way to make sure Jaebum did the same. Youngjae knew their rivalry ran deep enough to irk him in even the tiniest ways. It was enough to keep him from changing his mind halfway through at the very least. So he let that thought settle in Jaebum’s mind and waved his final goodbye.

 

* * *

Jaebum didn’t know what to do. How do you approach a friend with a topic like this?  _ Hey, just wanted to ask if you happen to have feelings for Yugyeom? Cool, okay. _ He could only imagine how horribly that would go.

Alright, idea scrapped.

Jaebum sighed and pushed the thought aside, he figured he’d find a way to talk to Bambam another day, he had songs to compose after all. But the absence of Bambam’s problems in his mind yielded space for his seemingly never-ending rage towards Park Jinyoung. Jaebum couldn’t understand why he’d agree to help Yugyeom, as far as he could tell, the two of them had a friendship based in dispising one another. Hell, Jinyoung had teased Yugyeom more than Jaebum over dinner on the night of the photography showcase, something that still confused the fuck out of him. It made him even angrier for some reason, it was almost like all the effort he’d spent trying to get a rise out of Jinyoung had gone to waste; like the reaction he’d seeked was being discarded so matter-of-factly that it infuriated him to no end. He’d spent most of that dinner seething and making small talk with Youngjae, trying to ignore Jinyoung to the best of his ability. He’d been horribly unsuccessful, though in he hardly considered it his fault, Jinyoung had a knack for getting under his skin and really, how could you ignore someone so irritating?

Across the room, his phone pinged not once, not twice, but approximately five times, the screen lighting up with each new notification. Jaebum wheeled his chair over to the desk and picked up his phone to read the new messages.

  
  


**From: Dabbing Idiot™**

 

**Today, 3:46 PM**

Hyung

 

**3:47 PM**

Hyung

 

**3:47 PM**

Hyuuung

 

**3:48 PM**

R u in the studio?

 

**3:48 PM**

i have shit i need you to read through

  
  


Jaebum huffed a laugh (speak of the fucking devil, hey?) before typing out a response.

  
  


**From: Me**

 

**Today, 3:50 PM**

Yeah i’m in the studio

  
  


There was a knock at the door. Jaebum got up to open it and, unsurprisingly, found Bambam standing outside the room. He rolled his eyes, “Why’d you text me if you were right outside the door anyway?”

Bambam shrugged, “Dramatic entrance,” he replied.

Jaebum barked a laugh and sat back in front of his computer, swivelling the chair around to face the younger.

“Your hair’s black,” he commented.

“Mm,” Bambam hummed, rubbing a strand between his forefinger and thumb. “Yugyeom and I dyed it yesterday.”

Getting Bambam to talk was going to be much easier than he thought, Jaebum nearly laughed out loud at the realisation.

“Looks good.” Bambam pulled a face at the compliment. “So what’s up?”

“I’m supposed to do an analysis of how music influences a viewer’s perception of films and I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right,” Bambam explained. “I thought I’d call on everyone’s favourite musician to check it for me.”

Jaebum scoffed before gesturing for the younger to pass his laptop over. It took them a total of fifteen minutes, Jaebum alternating between reading in silence and commenting on various sections, all whilst adding little notes to the document.

“You’ve got most of it,” Jaebum said, giving Bambam back his computer when he was done. “You just have to focus more on the fact that it’s a silent film, music always tells more when there’s no dialogue. Let that strengthen your analysis.”

“Gotcha,” Bambam nodded. “Thanks, hyung.”

“No problem,” he said turning back to his own computer. Bambam didn’t make an effort to move, so Jaebum figured he’d just let the younger stay if he wanted to. He needed more reason to keep him here anyway so he could fulfill Youngjae’s wish. But, realising he had no idea how to lead into it, he decided to work on one of his files to keep himself busy.

“New song?” Bambam asked from behind him.

“Yeah,” Jaebum replied. Noticing that he had Bambam’s attention he continued, “Why’d you dye your hair? I thought you liked the red.”

“I did. But Yugyeom wanted to dye his black and there was some leftover,” Bambam shrugged. “So we did mine too.”

“I’m impressed you even let him near you with anything permanent,” Jaebum joked.

“I trust him.”

“More than anyone else?” Jaebum cringed at himself.  _ So much for subtlety _ .

Bambam didn’t seem to notice, he was tapping his fingers on the keyboard as if he were lost in thought. Finally he sighed, “Yeah.”

One word. That was enough for Jaebum. He was ready to message Youngjae and call it a day, but across the room Bambam groaned.

“This is too hard.”

Jaebum looked at him quizzically.

“I can’t stop thinking and wishing and hinting and it drives me insane every time I even look at Yugyeom.” All the words came out in a rush.

“Could you tell him?” Jaebum asked after a pause.

“No.” Bambam flopped backwards in his chair. “Because every day there’s always something that comes up to remind us that we’re just friends, from the fact that my parents have called us stupid nicknames since we were five to every single fucking person I know telling us how we’re such good friends any time we do anything We dye our hair together and we sleep in the same bed but only because we’re  _ best fucking friends _ .

“I guess if I hadn’t known him for such a long time it’d be easier. But there’s this idea of me that he has in his head, and I’m so scared that if he finds out, it’ll ruin it all and he’ll leave. I can’t tell him, because I’d rather just be friends with Yugyeom than not at all.”

Jaebum kept quiet for a moment, letting Bambam recover from his outburst and provide an opportunity for him to speak further, just in case there was more on his mind. When the younger didn’t go on, Jaebum spoke:

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, that’s for you to decide, but sometimes there are reasons for all of this shit. Feelings, circumstances, the like. Sometimes they can’t be avoided, and that’s fine. That’s life. But sometimes better things come from not ignoring them.”

Bambam nodded slowly, “...yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Bambam looked more certain on the repetition.

“Okay,” Jaebum tried to smile encouragingly at Bambam, something he rarely succeeded at. But Bambam smiled back at him so mischievously that it was as if he’d forgotten about everything from mere seconds ago. Jaebum was already afraid of the impish gleam in his eyes.

“So,” Bambam drawled, evidently back to his normal self. “What’s up with you and Jinyoung-hyung?”

Jaebum choked.  _ This was not part of the plan _ .

“What?”

Bambam had the gods-darned audacity to wriggle his eyebrows, “Don’t act like your “rivalry” is just that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and Jinyoung-hyung are at each other’s necks all the time and like, you gotta admit, it’s a little hot.”

Jaebum spluttered, “What?” He felt like a broken record.

“I’m just sayin’, with the way both of you act, it’ll shock me if there’s really nothing between you two.”

“There isn’t anything.” Jaebum’s answer came out a little more curt than he meant it to.

But Bambam was unfazed, “Sure,” he grinned.

“Seriously,” Jaebum continued. “I hate him, he hates me, end of story.”

“Why?”

Bambam’s question caught him off guard, “Why what?”

“Why do you hate each other?”

Jaebum paused. He’d never really thought about that very hard if he was being completely honest. It had just become his instinct, like hating Jinyoung was engraved in every inch of his being.

“Because,” he furrowed his eyebrows. “He’s petty enough to hold grudges for _ ever _ , and he’s insufferable and a know-it-all and can’t help but let everyone know just how clever he is.”

“But you’re also an insufferable know-it-all who holds grudges forever,” Bambam pointed out. “You’re literally holding a grudge against him for holding a grudge.”

Jaebum lunged for Bambam’s neck. They wrestled in their chairs until they were breathless with laughter. And then the younger excused himself, but not before thanking him one more time with a sly grin plastered on his face. Jaebum rolled his eyes and shut the studio door.

Well, he had an answer for Youngjae that’s for sure. But there were a lot of other questions, and Jaebum wasn’t particularly sure if he wanted the answers to those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I'm sorry I've been gone for agesssss!!  
> Life and school got super hectic, so I apologise for disappearing :(
> 
> Tbh I still don't really know how much time I'll have in the next few weeks just because exams are coming up again, but we'll see how things go.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to all of you who may still be reading this, I'm sorry I'm not a very consistent poster, but I appreciate any of you who still continue to read this mess of a fic aha.  
> ♡♡


	12. Do You Want To Pass Or Not?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which perhaps the know-it-all’s don’t always know it all.

Jinyoung was nearing a burnout. To be honest, he was probably way past one. His hand had begun to cramp over an hour ago, his eyes itched and he rubbed at them behind his glasses, pushing the frames up off the bridge of his nose with the backs of his hands. His head felt heavy and useless as he ran his pen across the textbook page, but his valiant attempts to understand what was printed before him felt like he was throwing rocks at a brick wall. And underneath it all, lay that leaden fear of failure, its black eyes scrutinising his every move, claws pinning him to the wall. He threw his glasses onto the piles of paper surrounding him and shut his eyes tightly, running his hand over them and threading them into his hair before tugging on the strands sharply in hopes of a distraction.

He opened his eyes to check the time on his laptop: 9:45 pm. He exhaled quickly, pausing on the precipice of a decision, letting the sounds of the library become muted in his ears. He was at breaking point, a pressure had begun to build up behind his eyes and he knew this night would not end well. So, without pausing to allow himself to overthink it, he picked up his phone and sent a quick text. He received one back almost immediately, one with a new number that he opened in a separate message. Jinyoung’s fingers hovered over the small screen, poised to type the one thing that could make or break him. He inhaled, grit his teeth and let the clicking sounds of his phone echo lightly before the longer one signifying the sent message.

 

 

**From: Me**

 

**Today, 9:47 PM**

Hey this is jinyoung, are u free rn?

 

 

**From: +24 199 401 060 (unknown number)**

 

**9:48 PM**

why

 

 

**From: Me**

 

**9:49 PM**

I’m in the library i need help

 

 

**From: +24 199 406 010 (unknown number)**

 

**9:50 PM**

With what

 

 

**From: Me**

 

**9:51 PM**

This fucking prac report

  


Jinyoung watched the three little dots flicker back and forth... and then disappear. He waited for half a minute before ultimately sighing and chucking his phone across the table in defeat. He rubbed at his eyes again, smearing the tiny flecks of moisture that had built up around them.

“Don’t you look horrible.”

Jinyoung barely had the energy to lift his head to look up at the sound of that all-too-familiar voice. He felt the relief and gratitude wash over his entire body at the sight of Jaebum standing before him, arms crossed, his fingers drumming his jacket sleeves lightly.

Jinyoung picked his glasses up off the table and shoved them rather unceremoniously on his face as he groaned, “I _feel_ horrible.”

A raised eyebrow was the only hint of emotion Jaebum showed.

“I don’t… understand,” Jinyoung continued, gesturing helplessly towards the work sprawled out around him. He watched Jaebum scan over the mess quickly, a flash of recognition crossing his facial features as he beheld the various notes and biology printouts and the laptop open on a near-empty document.

“Is Park Jinyoung asking _me_ for help?” Jaebum’s voice quirked in mock surprise.

“Don’t even start,” he said, the attempted threat sounding less intimidating and more desperate. It wasn’t that far off his current mood.

Jaebum smirked into the silence before further questioning: “And why should I help you?”

The little bastard knew he had the upper hand, but Jinyoung still succumbed to him.

“Because I don’t know how to do this and you’re the only person I can ask because you got the same results because we did the stupid prac together and this is due tomorrow morning and-” he paused, not knowing how to continue. He settled on a noise somewhere between a moan and a frustrated scream.

Jaebum merely chuckled, an action that normally would’ve made Jinyoung red with fury, but today he only sighed, already resorting to brace for the failed grade he would get on this report.

“Fine.”

“What?” Jinyoung blinked up at Jaebum in disbelief.

The latter rolled his eyes and pulled the chair out from under the desk opposite him, “I’ll help you.”

“Why?”

“Because I get to watch you suffer and admit that you need help,” Jaebum smirked. “Oh, and I want a coffee from you every day from now on.”

Jinyoung opened his mouth to protest, but Jaebum cut him off, “Do you want to pass or not?”

Jinyoung shut his mouth.

And Jaebum grinned.

 

* * *

 

They worked through it slowly, Jaebum metaphorically poking and prodding for Jinyoung’s questions (and admitted need for assistance, just to stroke his ego a couple of times) whilst the latter half murmured and half blurted out all of the parts he didn’t understand.

Jaebum was enjoying it: he knew it, Jinyoung knew it. Jaebum tried to kid himself that it was solely because he was watching the younger admit to needing help, and not just any help, his own he might add. But still, Bambam’s words kept echoing in the back of his mind.

It was like all of his senses had gone into overdrive. Every shift of Jinyoung’s legs beneath that table, every twitch in his writing hand, every flicker of emotion in his eyes he caught. Just sitting across the table from him tied Jaebum’s stomach into those tight knots that always seemed to form at the sight of his nemesis. Only this time, they weren’t fighting, he was _helping_ Jinyoung for fuck’s sake and yet his intestines still felt like they were about to combust. And there was something so intimate about being this close, their voices hushed and tired eyes glancing back and forth between each other and the table. No, it was simply the atmosphere of the library, its lights dimmed due to the approaching call of midnight and the dark windy night rattling the windows, playing with his head.

Jinyoung looked up at him, or he looked in his direction. His eyes had glazed over as he paused with his fingers on the keyboard, lost in thought. Jinyoung shook his head slightly, eyes focusing on Jaebum for a split second before the latter looked away.

He wasn’t even sure why he was here. Sure, he had been in the music studios, barely a building away and capable of getting to the library in under five minutes. But really, why was he here?

“Hyung.” Jinyoung’s pout somehow turned the honorific into a casual term. No, Jaebum mentally shook his head, simply the late night library aesthetic.

Jinyoung turned his laptop around on the desk, swivelling to turn its screen to face Jaebum, “What the hell does this mean?”

Jaebum squinted against the white glow, trying to decipher the black text and various scientific names (why the fuck scientists decided to give everything ridiculously long names was beyond him) before leaning back in recognition. A lengthy description of catalase and denaturation (see?) later, Jinyoung nodded, puffy eyes glued back to the computer screen, the clicking of his computer filling the silence between them again.

With the black-haired boy occupied, Jaebum slipped his phone out of his jean pocket, turning it on only to find too many texts from Jackson demanding to know where he was. Given it was nearly eleven in the evening, Jaebum figured he’d cut him a little slack, but still, one message for every single word was neither the most efficient nor the least infuriating method of texting. He did not need that many notifications interrupting his music, no thank you.

Jaebum sighed softly and sent a short text back before locking his phone and tossing it on the table’s surface, the thud louder than he meant to be. Jinyoung looked up at the sound, lips pursed as if he were trying not to reprimand him for making an unnecessary amount of noise in the library. But he only rolled his eyes and turned back to his laptop when Jaebum lifted his eyebrows at him for a moment, almost in a silent dare.

It seemed everyone had been asking for his help lately, Jinyoung, Bambam, Youngjae. Which reminded him...

“Hey.” Jinyoung looked up again, as Jaebum spoke. “Youngjae asked you about Yugyeom, right?”

The younger hummed in agreement before adding, “He said you talked to Bambam.”

Jaebum chuckled instinctively, remembering that day in the studio, “He’s extraordinarily whipped, that boy.”

Jinyoung laughed slightly and Jaebum watched the outer corners of his eyes crinkle. It occurred to him that he’d never seen Jinyoung laugh before tonight. He wasn’t quite sure why that mattered to him.

_It’ll shock me if there’s really nothing between you two._

“Well it appears that feeling is shared by Yugyeom,” Jinyoung said, rolling his eyes. “Who would’ve guessed?”

“Honestly, I’m just surprised at how easily Bambam started talking.”

“Oh my god,” Jinyoung deadpanned. “Yugyeom would not shut up.”

“Well, Youngjae’s going to have a field trip with this information.”

Jaebum watched as Jinyoung smirked and turned back to his computer, before his face scrunched up in focus, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his pink lips.

_You gotta admit, it’s a little hot._

Jaebum shook his head slightly to rid it of Bambam’s words, this was merely an exception, he told himself, an opportunity to put Jinyoung in his debt and nothing more.

 

* * *

 

“Done.” Jinyoung slammed the lid of his laptop down, every muscle in his body relaxing as he slumped back in his chair.

“And all accomplished before midnight,” Jaebum informed him boredly from across the table as he checked his phone.

Jinyoung rubbed at his eyes and ran his hand through his hair once again, the black locks no doubt a wild mess atop his head. At this point, though, he didn’t really care. He was exhausted, his eyes were sore and there was a small part of him that couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

He groaned, realising he still had to print it out (fuck teachers who demanded they hand in a hardcopy of their reports, he was practically cutting down a whole tree for this). Jinyoung opened up his laptop again and was relieved to find he was within range to link it to the library’s photocopiers nearby. He hit print on his computer and waited until he could hear the strained sounds of the machinery before using the minimal amount of energy he had left to push himself out of the chair and walked over to the printer pushed up against the wall. He passed the lonely student on the night shift at the library’s counter, some kid in his biology class he did not know the name of, and stood by the printer, waiting rather impatiently for it to finish its task.

As he was making the trip back to the desk where Jaebum sat, a new stack of warm papers clutched in his hands, Jinyoung looked around and noticed the library was significantly emptier than the last time he remembered. Aside from a few stragglers, he and Jaebum were the only ones left.

Jinyoung slid back into his seat, shuffling the papers still laid out on the desk and began organising and filing them away. His laptop flashed him a warning - 5% of its battery remaining - before he turned it off and shoved it into his bag next to the battered-looking notes and diagrams.

Once everything was gone and he could see the table’s surface again, Jinyoung sighed and closed his eyes momentarily, revelling in the sense of accomplishment and the prospect of no more stress.

When he opened his eyes, he looked at Jaebum, “I-”

The elder’s gaze met Jinyoung’s who froze as his words stumbled in his mouth.

“Thank you,” he tried again. “For… this.”

Jinyoung could feel the heat rise to his cheeks, the shame of leaving this report to the last minute like a high schooler and having to ask for help from none other than _Im Jaebum_. But if the latter noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he scuffed his shoes against the carpet, with a murmured “you’re welcome”, his eyes suddenly averted from Jinyoung’s.

He couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey this is what exam week feels like and mine’s next week asdgfhjg
> 
> (And as always thank you for reading this far into this shitty mess wowowow)


	13. Knew... What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the oblivious two become an oblivious one.

Bambam was ignoring him, Yugyeom was sure of it. He left their dorm much earlier than he needed to and didn’t return until well after dinner. There were some nights when he didn’t come back at all. On those nights, Yugyeom didn’t know what to do with himself. It didn’t feel right to sleep in Bambam’s bed without its owner, even if it meant having to deal with waking up in the dead of the night all over again. Their room felt oddly empty, too big and too dark on those nights. He’d started to sleep on the couch just to avoid the loneliness of their bedroom.

On the nights when Bambam  _ was _ in the dorm, he went to bed first, leaving Yugyeom to fumble around in the dark before slipping under the covers of his own bed across the other side of the room. He wanted more than anything to go back to Bambam, to go back to the boy huddled under the blankets they used to share. But there was some unwritten rule in the messy void of unclarity that stopped him and, as much as he hated that ambiguity, he didn’t dare to cross it. Still, it didn’t stop Yugyeom from missing the warmth and comfort (and sleep) that Bambam’s presence gave him.

It only occurred to him after a week that maybe there was a good reason for Bambam’s actions. Yugyeom really had let himself go in the past couple of months, indulging in the older boy more than he knew he should have. Maybe he’d finally gone a step too far, pushed too many boundaries and toed too many lines. His stomach dropped, the dreaded realisation that Bambam had discovered how he felt filling his mind. Bambam was probably avoiding him because he was weirded out, at the very very least. Yugyeom couldn’t even hate him for it, they’d been best friends since they were little kids, changing all of that would have freaked him out too, if he wasn’t the one changing everything, that is.

So he stopped trying to seek Bambam out, stopped waiting up for him to return late at night and stopped expecting to see him making coffee in the morning. Yugyeom had started to avoid the elder too; he went to bed earlier than he needed to, kept to the rooms and seats further away from Bambam than necessary. It only took them a few days to perfect the dance of separation, elusion. Outside of their dorm and in class, Bambam talked to him like normal, but there was an invisible wall that had gone up and, well, it was difficult to ignore that pressing feeling of something being so  _ off _ , even if he was contributing to it in some way.

It was Youngjae who picked up on it first.

“Hey, Gyeom-ie.” Yugyeom’s stomach flipped at the nickname usually reserved for Bambam’s usage.

“Hey, Youngjae-hyung.”

“Is Bambam, okay?” Youngjae asked as he shoved his hands in his pocket and walked alongside Yugyeom.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, he’s been seeming a little distant lately. I was wondering if you knew what was up.”

Yugyeom shrugged, unsure of how to answer. Unsure if he even wanted to, or was allowed to. There was a small part of his brain that realised he was being associated with Bambam, that when people wanted to know about him, they would come to Yugyeom. He tried not to enjoy that thought too much.

“Everything okay?” Youngjae continued tentatively.

Yugyeom sighed before laughing softly, “Probably not.”

“Why?”

He exhaled.

“I think Bambam’s been avoiding me,” Yugyeom muttered so quietly he was unsure if Youngjae could even hear him. “I like him, hyung, but I think he knows and I just… I fucked it all up.”

The elder hesitated before speaking, “Try not to be so pessimistic about it.”

Yugyeom shot a glance towards him.

“I’m just saying,” Youngjae stated. “That sometimes we make out situations to be worse than they actually are.”

“If you say so…” Yugyeom frowned.

“Keep your chin up, Gyeom-ah. I’m sure things will be okay.”

* * *

 

 

If Jaebum didn’t love Youngjae as much as he did, he definitely would’ve stopped being his friend ages ago. There was urgency, and then there was Youngjae bursting through his studio door, limbs flailing about wilding, panting like he’d run a marathon and nonsensical things spouting from his mouth in shouts.

“Youngjae-ah.” Jaebum held up a hand to slow the energetic boy down. “Be quiet, people are working next door.”

“This is the music block, hyung, it’s not like they can hear me. You can literally feel the vibrations of the instruments through the walls.”

“Doesn’t mean they don’t need to concentrate.”

“Hyung, do you really think Jun’s going to care?” Youngjae remarked with a subtle eye roll and pointed a thumb sideways at the room next to theirs. “Especially if Minghao’s with him.”

Despite himself, Jaebum smirked. Jun and Minghao were notoriously known for sneaking off into music rooms and doing a lot of other things that did not classify as music.

“Yes, but Jihoon is here today, and I do not want him breathing down my neck about it.”

“He’s on drums, he can’t hear anything,” Youngjae countered.

If it was anyone else, Jaebum would’ve kicked him out, but instead he just sighed at the younger’s persistence.

“Fine,” Jaebum conceded, swivelling his chair to properly face Youngjae. “What’s up?”

Slowly (and with far too many tangents that Jaebum tried very hard not to zone out of) Youngjae explained everything he’d learned from Yugyeom barely an hour prior.

“Why?” Youngjae asked after a pause. “It’s not like Bambam to start avoiding Yugyeom.”

Jaebum drummed his fingers against his upper thigh, the invisible beat of his composition still ringing in his ears.

“I wonder…” The words drifted off his tongue in uncertainty.

“What?” Youngjae queried.

Jaebum shook his head minutely, “I talked to him, told him not to avoid his feelings and all that shit. I think he may have taken the advice the wrong way: decided that not avoiding his feelings meant avoiding  _ Yugyeom _ entirely.”

“How on Earth could he have interpreted it that way?” Youngjae asked incredulously.

“I don’t know,” Jaebum answered with a strange noise caught between a chuckle and a sigh. “But he did.”

Youngjae laughed, “Well, it’s good to know they don’t hate each other. That would’ve made my life so much harder, though admittedly it doesn’t make it any easier,” he added in afterthought.

The younger turned to go, but Jaebum’s question kept him pausing in the doorway to listen:

“Why?” His voice dipped in volume despite the drums and piano still floating through the walls (it seemed like Jun and Minghao  _ were _ actually playing something then).

Youngjae tilted his head questioningly.

“Why do all of this?” Jaebum continued. “Why bother with all of this relationship drama?”

“Hm,” Youngjae paused. “I guess maybe because there’s no other situation where I would? I’ll never have to do any of this, and it’s sort of like I’m living vicariously through them, in a weird way.”

Jaebum nodded slightly, unsure but understanding.

“I know there’s a line,” Youngjae went on. “I don’t ever plan to cross it, and if they want me to stop I will, no hesitation or questions asked.  But let’s be real, hyung, they’ve been pining over each other for  _ years _ . Since high school. They were going to figure everything out eventually. I’m just… speeding up the process a little.” 

Youngjae paused and giggled fondly, “They’ll both be forty when they figure it out otherwise.”

“Fair enough,” Jaebum replied.

Youngjae hovered in the doorway for a minute more to allow Jaebum to offer his final words of farewell:

“Take care of our maknaes, Youngjae-ah.”

 

* * *

 

Bambam was pacing back and forth outside the cafe, his hands were still shaking from where he’d shoved them into his jeans pockets in an attempt to stop the nervous tick. He’d really just made them clammier than they already were.

The early spring breeze blew the soft scent of blossoms around him, its cold fingers still finding its way up his jacket sleeves to raise goosebumps on his arms. Despite it all, Bambam was still sweating, pacing the length of the glass windows and muttering to himself.

Everything was fine, it wasn’t like he was about to potentially destroy the best friendship he’d ever had.

Everything. Was. Fine.

If Bambam looked carefully enough he could see Youngjae weaving his way around inside the (no doubt much warmer) cafe, stained apron indicating he’d been on his shift for quite a while. The older looked up and met Bambam’s gaze before smiling encouragingly at him from behind the glass. Bambam tried to smile back, but he was afraid that it came out as more of a grimace than anything.

He’d caved. He was driving himself crazy. He’d thought avoiding Yugyeom would have been better, less painful in the long run if he managed to stick it out. Which, of course, he hadn’t. He’d barely lasted three weeks, damn him.

Youngjae honestly hadn’t seemed all that surprised when Bambam had confessed. It made him self-conscious, made him wonder how painstakingly obvious he’d been for who knows how long.

It had taken him an embarrassingly lengthy amount of time to figure out everything, and with far too much help from Youngjae. Even now, he knew it was stupid, but having the elder in the cafe behind him calmed his nerves a little. Youngjae was like a backup, not that he ever imagined he would need one, Yugyeom wasn’t going to punch him in the face or anything when he’d finished explaining (was he?). 

He shook his head slightly. No. Of course not.

Bambam pivoted on the spot, the sole of his shoe crunching against the concrete as he turned to see Yugyeom walking towards him. His heart jumped to his throat and he had to remind himself to breathe, to keep his feet planted into the footpath and not give in the the urge to run as far away as he could.

_ If it will make you feel better, give you a sense of release or peace, then you should tell him. _ Youngjae’s words from a few days ago echoed in his head as Yugyeom walked closer to where he stood, heart fluttering, palms sweating and mind buzzing.

_ And maybe he deserves to know. You’ve known each other since you were little kids, and you’ve never kept anything from him before. Maybe he’d appreciate it y’know? The honesty. _

Yugyeom stopped in front of him, the former’s posture hunched forward in that adorable way Bambam knew meant that he was feeling shy or nervous.

“H-hi,” Yugyeom spoke, his voice catching on the exhale.

“Hey.” Bambam scuffed his feet awkwardly on the concrete. Somehow it had become impossible for him to meet his best friend’s gaze, so he kept his locked on his shoelaces instead. In the corner of his peripheral vision, he could see Yugyeom averting his eyes too.

“You, you’ve been avoiding me,” Yugyeom told the non-existent patch of dirt on his jeans. Bambam felt the punch of guilt straight to his gut at the melancholy tone in his voice.

“And so have you,” He phrased the statement like a question towards the younger.

Yugyeom’s shoulders moved, a strange mix between a shrug and a nod.

“I owe you an explanation,” Bambam said finally, his fingers quivering in his pockets.

“No, I get it,” Yugyeom interrupted him. “I, yeah, no, it’s fine. Completely understandable. I’m sorry that I let all of this get in the way.”

Did that mean Yugyeom was forgiving him? Did he already know before today? He still sounded so defeated.

“I’m sorry too, for thinking that avoiding you without saying anything would hurt less,” Bambam muttered.

“I guess I just didn’t know you knew for a while.”

Bambam’s face creased minutely in confusion, “Knew… what?”

The hand that was tapping on Yugyeom’s thigh stilled as his breath shook.

“Knew that I love you.”

Bambam’s heart stopped.

“Wh-what?”

The world had gone silent. He could no longer hear the wind whipping around him, or the distant sounds of the cafe behind him. The buzzing in his mind had been replaced with an overwhelming absence of sound that made it feel like he was drowning.

“I-” Yugyeom’s cheeks were flushed. “I’m sorry that it had to happen this way, that it kept you out of the dorm and away from... everything for so long.”

All Bambam could see was Yugyeom; black hair and thick turtleneck, the mole under his right eye and the rosy colour of his lips. And in one swift second, the sounds of the world came rushing back to him, as if his ears had popped. Bambam snapped back to the present, to the adorable boy stumbling over his words in front of him.

“Yugyeom.”

They were stupid, oh they were so ridiculously stupid the two of them.

The corners of Bambam’s mouth turned upwards slightly at the thought.

“What?” Yugyeom looked so nervous he could’ve been on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you.” Before the younger could interrupt he continued, “I was avoiding you because I love you too.”

Bambam watched as Yugyeom’s face dropped in shock, before it shifted with something caught between excitement and hesitation.

“You, what?” he blinked.

Bambam giggled a stupid, fluttery giggle at the taller boy, “I love you,” he repeated. “Gosh, Kim Yugyeom, you’re thick.”

“Says you!” Yugyeom laughed defensively, running his hand through his hair as he did so. Bambam’s eyes followed the movement before casting back down to meet a pair of deep brown ones.

“So…” Bambam muttered uncertainly, unable to look away.

Yugyeom rolled his eyes, “Just kiss me, you dork.”

So Bambam did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for inconsistencies again, exams happened and I'm trying to catch up on chapters rip.  
> I'm probs not gonna update every week like I used to just a heads up.
> 
> Sorry again and thank you all ♡


	14. JJ Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Youngjae recruits more members to put his plan into action.

“It took you long enough!”

Yugyeom pulled away to see the source of the voice materialise into the body of Choi Youngjae, who had come barrelling out of the cafe behind them. Bambam looked about as flustered as he felt, a giddy-sounding giggle falling from his pink lips. The lips Yugyeom had kissed. He was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. Still trying to get over the initial shock of everything that had happened in the last couple of minutes. 

“You knew?” Yugyeom asked.

“Everyone knew,” Youngjae responded with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure even Coco knew.”

Yugyeom felt the heat rush to his already flushed cheeks, as he looked over sheepishly towards Bambam. Now that he knew he could look at the latter as much as he wanted, it seemed impossible for him to stop.

“We’re so dumb,” Bambam laughed, running his hand through his hair.

Yugyeom tore his gaze away to pout at Youngjae, “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!”

Youngjae shrugged, “You had to figure it out for yourselves.”

Yugyeom whined and moved to collapse against Bambam. He placed his hands on the Bambam’s shoulders and burrowed his head in the crook of his neck as he grumbled once more at Youngjae. Yugyeom revelled in the touch as Bambam leaned into him too. He’d missed this; missed the feeling of being able to disappear into the smaller boy’s side, missed being able to touch and smell his skin, missed being able to smile at Bambam and receive one in return.

“Oi, lovebirds,” Youngjae snapped his fingers in front of their faces. Yugyeom had to shove his hands into his pockets to avoid clinging onto Bambam’s jacket to stop him taking a step away.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic that you two are together but there’s no need to be this gross,” Youngjae rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you have a shift to attend?” Bambam asked him accusingly, before stepping behind Yugyeom to avoid the elder’s following attack.

Youngjae stepped back, breathless with laughter. He looked them both over once more before glancing down and brushing what looked like flour from the front of his apron, “I’ll see you both around, then.”

And with that, Yugyeom and Bambam watched as Youngjae’s final farewell escorted him back inside of the warm cafe.

 

* * *

A week later, Yugyeom’s phone vibrated on the other end of the couch. Stretching sideways, he grabbed the device with one hand and, with the other, turned over so he was lying across the length of the couch on his stomach.

  
  


**[DabbingIdiot™] has added [sunshinechoi] and [yogurt] to a new chat**

 

**DabbingIdiot™:** oi idiots

 

**sunshinechoi:** is that us?

 

**DabbingIdiot™:** oi idiot and youngjae hyung

 

**yogurt:** um rude

 

**DabbingIdiot™:** i state only facts

 

**[yogurt] has changed [DabbingIdiot™]’s name to [snek]**

 

**[snek] has changed their name to [snek™]**

 

**snek™:** as i was saying

 

**snek™:** y’all noticed anything with jinyoung hyung and jaebum hyung?

 

**snek™:** something that smells like more than just a rivalry?

 

**snek™:** cuz you’d literally have to pay me a million dollars to believe otherwise

 

**snek™:** and as a broke college kid thats saying a lot

 

**yogurt:** now you mention it yeah

 

**sunshinechoi:** omg im not the only one

 

**sunshinechoi:** finally

 

**sunshinechoi:** why is everyone ik oblivious as hell

 

**sunshinechoi:** im the aro friend for fricks sake

 

**yogurt:** rip hyung

 

**[sunshinechoi] has added [wanggae] and [mark] to the chat**

 

**wanggae:** yoooooooooo

 

**mark:** whats this 

 

**wanggae:** MARK HYUNG

 

**mark:** um yeah

 

**wanggae:** WHAT IS THIS ABOMINATION

 

**snek™:** u know he is ur boyfriend right?

 

**snek™:** really thought youd actually be happy to see him tbh

 

**wanggae:** no no no nononono not that

 

**yogurt:** thenwhat?

 

**wanggae:** his user

 

**yogurt:** what abt it?

 

**wanggae:** its so BORING

 

**[wanggae] has changed [mark]’s name to [markipoo]**

 

**wanggae:** better

 

**snek™:** AHFUDSISSKKJL

 

**snek™:** MARJIPOOI

 

**snek™:** IM LAUGHINF

 

**markipoo:** bambam

 

**snek™:** mm

 

**markipoo:** i still have my old laptop

 

**snek™:** adhjsk nope markipoo is a brilliant name wha i didnt say an ything

 

**markipoo:** thats what i thought

 

**markipoo:** anyway whats this youngjae ah?

 

**snek™:** *cough* favouritism much *cough*

 

**wanggae:** well duh

 

**wanggae:** everyone loves youngjae

 

**snek™:** and no one loves me??

 

**yogurt:** *pointed cough*

 

**snek™:** shut up yogurt you dont count

 

**yogurt:** then yeah no one loves u

 

**snek™:** ouch

 

**snek™:** betrayed by my own boyfriend

 

**sunshinechoi:** cant relate

 

**snek™:** u dont have a boyfreind tho

 

**wanggae:** thats the whole fucken point??

 

**sunshinechoi:** anyway

 

**sunshinechoi:** we’ve reached a unanimous conclusion that jaebum hyung and jinyoung hyung aren’t /just/ rivals

 

**sunshinechoi:** and since i’ve successfully managed to get all of you lot together, i deserve your help with this

 

**sunshinechoi:** also we know those 2 are stubborn as ever and its definitely not a one man job

 

**wanggae:** so… you want us to help you hook jaebum hyung and jinyoungie up

 

**yogurt:** well thats one way to put it

 

**yogurt:** but prety much

 

**wanggae:** *pretty

 

**yogurt:** shut the fuck up jackson

 

**wanggae:** watch it

 

**yogurt: *** shut the fuck up hyung

 

**wanggae:** better

 

**sunshinechoi:** so everyones in?

 

**wanggae:** HECK YES

 

**yogurt:** yup

 

**snek™:** yeeeee

 

**markipoo:** jinyoungie will be hard to convince

 

**markipoo:** but yeah

 

**sunshinechoi:** brilliant

 

**wanggae:** it’s like were spys assigned to a mission

 

**snek™:** wtf?

 

**wanggae:** yk its like a secret project were all in on

 

**snek™:** sure whatever as long as i get the taser

 

**[sunshinechoi] has changed the name of the chat to [jjproject]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is really short, I've been reading a shitton of chatfics lately so this chapter sort of morphed into one of them haha.  
> I'll go back to the normal layout in the next chapter <3


	15. Let's Get Ourselves To That Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which college parties may provide the perfect start to the "jjproject".

Jackson stretched his arms up above his head and sighed, feeling the bones in his back crack as he twisted in his seat. Across the room of their dorm, Jaebum looked up at him.

“Do you have to?” he asked.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jackson grimaced, bringing his arms back down and picked up his phone out of his lap. He paused for a second before speaking again:

“Hey, Jaebum-hyung.”

He got a grunt in response. Jackson shuffled to the edge of his chair and placed his elbows on his knees, looking expectantly at Jaebum.

“So… Namjoon-ie was telling me about a house party his friends are hosting on Friday.” Jackson threw his phone in the air, watching it flip over before landing square in the middle of his palm. He continued, “We’re going to go, you should come.”

“Friday?” Jaebum questioned.

“8 pm.”

The elder shrugged, “Okay.”

Jackson settled back against the seat of his chair, satisfied. He unlocked his phone and typed out a message:  
  
  


**From Me, To: [jjproject]**

 

**Today, 5:17 PM**

Jaebum hyungs coming

  
  


**From markipoo, To: [jjproject]**

 

**5:19 PM**

And so’s jinyoungie

  
  


**From sunshinechoi, To: [jjproject]**

 

 

**5:20 PM**

brilliant  
  
  


* * *

 

“Gyeom-ah!”

“What?”

“Where’d you put my jacket?”

“Which one?”

“The grey one!”

“With gold flecks?”

“Yeah!”

“I don’t know.”

Bambam sighed and ran a hand through his hair before sifting through the piles of clothes sprawled over pretty much every surface in the bedroom. He lifted a thick coat off the end of his bed to uncover the jacket he was searching for. Bambam pulled the fabric over his shoulders just as Yugyeom walked through the door.

To say he looked good was to make the grandest understatement of the year. Yugyeom was dressed entirely in black, a satin shirt hung loosely off his torso, its neck dipping down his chest. He’d tucked the front roughly into the jeans that were pulled tightly across his legs and the belt that cinched his waist glinted as it reflected the light of their room.

“Bam-ah.” The sound of Yugyeom annoyed voice reminded Bambam to move his gaze up to the former’s face. “Hurry up. There won’t  _ be _ a party to go to if you spend this long picking an outfit.”

“The party starts when I walk in, babyyy,” Bambam smirked.

“Don’t say that ever again,” Yugyeom cringed.

“I’m almost done, hold on.” Bambam crouched on the floor to pull several pairs of shoes from out of the closet. He heard Yugyeom groan from behind him, suspecting he knew that the decision would take longer than he wanted. “Okay fine, wait.” he continued, hoping to stop the youngest from walking out of the room again (he wanted to keep Yugyeom in his sight forever when he was dressed like that). Bambam grabbed the first pair of shoes he laid his eyes on - black, pointed, a slight heel - and slid them on before turning to face the tall boy once again. Yugyeom stepped into the room and approached the mirror, his hands hovering above his head as he fixed his hair.

“You’d look really good with eyeliner.”

At Bambam’s sudden comment, Yugyeom looked up at the former in the mirror, a small look of surprise written across his face. Bambam flushed a little at the intensity of his stare but held his ground with a grin. 

“Come on,” Bambam continued. “It’s a college house party, no one’s going to care.”

Yugyeom eventually broke their gaze with a nod of his head. Still smiling, Bambam dug around in the contents of their closet again and pulled out an eyeliner brush. He reached his free hand out to grasp the younger’s shoulder, pushing him down to sit on the floor across from him.

“Now, don’t move,” Bambam commanded, fingers fiddling with the brush in his hand. “Liquid eyeliner is messy at the best of times…” 

The rest of his comment died on his lips as he watched Yugyeom settle in front of him and close his eyes. Bambam tilted his boyfriend’s head upwards with one hand and raised his other to rest on Yugyeom’s cheek. Inhaling softly to steady his hand, Bambam pressed the tip of the brush to the younger’s eyelid. Bambam could feel his breath tickling the side of his hand as he drew a thin, black line just above his lashes. As promised, Yugyeom remained deathly still and Bambam managed to complete the first eye without any struggle. They nearly messed up the second because Yugyeom twitched and Bambam slipped, but he pulled the brush away and saved them all the trouble of blotchy eyeliner.

When he finished, Bambam withdrew his hand and paused to admire his handiwork. Yugyeom’s eyes now lined in a dark bold line that flicked in the corners, he sat, eyes still closed and face tilted up towards an invisible hand. Bambam ran his gaze over his boyfriend’s face one more time before leaning in to connect their lips for a second and pulled away. He stood up as Yugyeom’s eyes fluttered open again, cheeks perhaps a little pinker than they were before (though that could’ve just been because Bambam’s hands had been resting there for fifteen minutes).

“Are you done?” Yugyeom asked, looking up at him.

Bambam nodded, “Now let’s get ourselves to that party.”

 

* * *

 

The music thrummed in Jaebum’s ears, in his chest, even in the very tips of the fingers that were currently wrapped around his disposable cup. He swirled the liquid in its cylindrical container, observing the throng of dancing students from his position against the far wall. He spotted Yugyeom and Bambam amongst them, they jumped and yelled and - even though they were both shining with sweat - their smiles never left their faces.

“Well, it looks like you were right after all,” Jaebum raised his voice over the noise so Youngjae could hear him from where he stood by his side.

The younger merely shrugged and smiled, “I just hope I’ll continue to be right.”

To the other side of Youngjae, Jackson coughed loudly from where he was seated at a table and, next to him, Mark grinned. Jackson’s hand was resting on his boyfriend’s upper thigh, clenching not-so-subtly every time someone wandered a little too close or held eye contact for a little too long with the eldest.

Jaebum was about to ask, but Mark cut him off: “Let’s dance, Jackson-ah.”

Jackson lit up at the suggestion, springing up from the chair and flinging his empty cup down onto the table’s surface in the process. He and Youngjae watched as the two left to join the crowd, weaving their way until they too were jumping alongside Yugyeom and Bambam to the throbbing bass.

Jaebum emptied the last few drops of alcohol out of his cup before placing down on the table next to Jackson’s upturned one. It was a rather nice table, Jaebum thought. The whole house was rather nice. It was small, sure, but it was big enough to hold a large crowd of partygoers and in comparison to the tiny dorms most of the students resided in, it was a golden mansion. Or perhaps a golden opportunity. The owners were rich or came from rich families at least. It wasn’t an obvious observation, it didn’t slap you across the face and scream  _ we have money! _ but there were enough small details that, when pieced together, gave it away. The furniture, whilst boring on first sight, was made of dark wood and barely moved an inch even as people leaned and bumped into them, its material making the tables and armchairs impossibly heavy. Lights adorned with crystals hung from the ceiling and a fireplace (extinguished, obviously the owners didn’t trust the safety levels of the house’s current state) built into the brick wall. It was a shame the place would soon be trashed by a bunch of college kids desperate for some fun and booze. The carpet already had dark stains running through it and Jaebum decided he didn’t want to know what it was.

“Youngjae!”

A dark-haired boy came barrelling towards Jaebum and Youngjae, his greeting followed swiftly by a loud laugh that managed to travel over the music.

“Hoseok-hyung!” Youngjae returned the call as he embraced the newcomer.

“How are you lot enjoying the party?” The man named Hoseok asked, nodding his head towards Jaebum to acknowledge his presence.

“It’s amazing, you really outdid yourself this time,” Youngjae answered.

“Well,” Hoseok shrugged. “It nearly didn’t happen. Yoongi-hyung threatened to kick me out of the house if I threw another one of these, especially after what happened last time-”

The glint in his eyes told Jaebum nothing good had come from the “last time”.

“-took him weeks to clean up he said.” Hoseok rolled his eyes. “But I let him control the music and suggested inviting Jimin-ie over and he suddenly seemed very okay with the idea of a party.”

As Hoseok and Youngjae laughed again, Jaebum’s eyes drifted away from their faces to the group behind them. He shut his eyes for a second and when he opened them again, he locked eyes with Jinyoung as the black-haired boy emerged from the crowd of dancers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter's shorter than normal, but hopefully you still enjoyed whatever this shitfest is haha.
> 
>  
> 
> (also yeah I changed my username so whaddup y'all, sorry it was rather impulsive).


	16. Why Do You Hate Me So Much?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the end of the night brings about the start of cleared misunderstandings.

The first thing that Jaebum noticed about Jinyoung was his hair. The younger male’s black hair was swept up from a part to the right of his head, exposing his forehead for the world (or maybe just for Jaebum) to see.

The next thing he noticed was that Jinyoung had for the second time in all of Jaebum’s memory, chosen not to wear his glasses. And, for the second time in all of Jaebum’s memory, he realised just how much of a difference it made. The elder stood, staring at the man in front of him, the man who weaved his way between the drunken college students like he was made of smoke and wind. A couple of girls tumbled backward in his path, but Jinyoung simply held out his hands to steady them before stepping sideways around them and continuing until he, at last, came to a stop to where Jaebum and Youngjae stood.

The stark contrast between this Jinyoung standing in front of him and the Jinyoung he had last seen having a meltdown in the library, caught Jaebum off guard. Jaebum had to mentally command himself to keep his eyes trained to Jinyoung’s face so he didn’t slowly (and not so subtly) trail his eyes up and down his figure. He wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t keep his eyes where they needed to be. Not yet.

“Jinyoung-hyung!” Youngjae’s voice broke through Jaebum’s reverie and he couldn’t have been more thankful for the younger at that moment.

“Hello, Youngjae-ah,” Jinyoung smiled warmly at the brunette in question.

“You came!” Youngjae practically beamed.

Jinyoung laughed, “Well I did say I was going to.”

As he and Youngjae made polite banter back and forth, Jaebum took the opportunity to take in the black-haired boy. Loose shirt, well-fitting jeans, a heavy jacket. He watched Jinyoung’s hips as the latter shifted his weight midway through Youngjae’s anecdote.

“Jaebum-hyung?”

Jaebum snapped his eyes back up to Jinyoung’s face, his neck warm.

“Hand me a drink.”

Jaebum sighed a breath of relief and reached behind him to grab a bottle from the table.

“Bottoms up,” he said, smiling shortly before all three of them took another sip.

 

* * *

 

“Do you really need another?” Mark asked Jinyoung who was attempting to reach around him to grab a drink from the table behind the elder.

“But I’m barely even drunk, hyung,” Jinyoung pouted, still trying to reach around Mark.

The brunette made a noise of disagreement and pushed back lightly on Jinyoung’s shoulders. The younger stumbled back a step and bumped softly into Jaebum’s side.

“Oh,” Jinyoung looked up at him. “Sorry.”

“You’re okay,” Jaebum muttered breathlessly. His side was still tingling with the ghost of Jinyoung’s hand, it was like someone had sent an electric current through his ribs.

“You’re not getting this drink Jinyoung-ie,” Jackson interjected, his arm slinking its way around Mark’s waist to grab it off the table. “Because I am.”

Jackson smirked but nearly spat out his drink laughing at the face Jinyoung pulled.

Jaebum laughed heartily and lifted a hand to pat Jinyoung’s shoulder in mock comfort. It was only once he made contact with the younger boy that he realised what he’d done. Jaebum froze, his hand still holding onto the fabric of Jinyoung’s jacket, unable to move it. But the latter did not move away or even flash him a look of disgust, in fact, Jaebum could’ve sworn he shifted closer.

Regardless of if it was due to Jaebum’s gesture or Jinyoung’s tipsy state (yes, Jinyoung might’ve said he wasn’t drunk but he definitely wasn’t sober either), the black-haired boy let the issue drop, something practically unheard of for him. Jackson turned his head away from the former’s sight and silently cheered at his victory whilst Jaebum uttered a small snort of amusement.

“What’re you laughing at?” Jinyoung grinned up at him, his words tumbling over one another in an attempt to reach Jaebum’s ears over the noise.

“You,” he stated matter-of-factly, as Jinyoung shifted so Jaebum’s hand slid forward and his wrist was resting on the younger’s shoulder.

“Nah-uh,” Jinyoung shook his head. “You were laughing at Jackson.”

“But Jackson’s laughing at you, so by extension I’m also laughing at you.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Well, it  _ is _ a mathematical concept,” Mark interjected.

“Mark-hyung,” Jinyoung raised his eyebrow. “We’re at a party, we’re tryna get drunk, and you are  _ not _ going to remind me of maths whilst we do those things or I will literally gut you on that dance floor.”

Mark simply shrugged in response, “Noted.”

Jinyoung huffed in satisfaction and paused before elbowing Jaebum in the ribs.

“Ow,” Jaebum winced. “What?”

Jinyoung pouted at him and Jaebum’s heart had the goddamned audacity to clench.

“Can I have  _ your _ drink?”

Jaebum chuckled, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t need another.”

“But I’m barely even drunk, hyung.” Jinyoung bounced on the spot and Jaebum readjusted his arm, trying to ignore the fuzzy feeling building in his chest. “And I beg to differ.”

Jinyoung reached around him and grabbed the plastic cup out of Jaebum’s grip. He stood back in content before he looked down to find the beverage empty in his hand. He whined as their small group erupted into laughter.

“Shit, drunk Jinyoung-ie is a whole new experience,” Jackson commented once they’d all caught their breath again.

A second later, Bambam emerged from the crowd, Yugyeom’s hands wrapped around his shoulders as the youngest sauntered behind him. Panting, and with identical grins on their faces, the two of them approached their little group.

“Jackson-hyung!” Bambam yelled over the music. “We found Namjoon-hyung!”

“Oh, great. Lead me to him!” Jackson cried with an air of flamboyance and before Jaebum could blink, the three of them had disappeared again, Jackson dragging Mark with him. Youngjae muttered something about finding Hoseok (or Yoongi? Jaebum couldn’t quite catch it), but regardless, he too, was swallowed in an instant by the thriving party.

So that left Jaebum and Jinyoung alone, his arm still resting on top of the younger’s clothed shoulder. A moment of silence passed between them, Jaebum kept his gaze straight ahead, so he didn’t have to see Jinyoung’s face, at least for the time being.

“Hey, hyung?” Jinyoung’s voice posed the question in his ear.

“Mm?” Jaebum didn’t shift his stare, only tilted his head sideways in Jinyoung’s direction so he could better hear his next question.

“Tell me again why you let Jackson and Bambam become friends?”

Jaebum laughed and dipped his head forward, feeling the loose strands of his hair and the side of his forehead come into contact with Jinyoung’s neck. He rested there with one arm slung over Jinyoung’s figure, he shut his eyes briefly as he took in the smell of alcohol and sweat and a hint of musky cologne clinging onto the younger’s skin.

But suddenly, as if he’d been shocked, Jinyoung stiffened and jumped backward away from Jaebum. The latter watched in confusion as he adjusted his jacket and folded his arms over his chest, muscles locked and tense beneath the fabric. Jaebum met his eyes and bristled at the cold stare he found within them.

“What’s wrong?” he asked a stoic Jinyoung who was still looking at him like he’d murdered his firstborn son. Jaebum did a once over himself self-consciously, checking his arms and chest and shirt in search of an answer to the black-haired boy’s sudden change in behaviour.

“What?” he repeated his question once he realised he was still drawing a blank.

Jinyoung huffed and turned his head to observe the party, the glow of the lights illuminating his arched cheekbones. Jaebum watched him tersely, pushing his tongue into the side of his mouth as he awaited a response he suspected wasn’t going to come.

He was starting to get annoyed at this point, annoyed at Jinyoung and annoyed at himself. Couldn’t Jinyoung be a normal person for five fucking minutes? Apparently not, and yet, Jaebum still found himself noting how ridiculously flattering that jacket was and how shimmery his lips looked in the dim room.

“Okay seriously, what is your problem?” Jaebum growled, taking a step forward.

Jinyoung loosened his hands from their twisted vice and pushed Jaebum away from him, his skin burning holes through the elder’s shirt.

“Get away from me,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t seem to give a shit five minutes ago, with your hands all over me,” Jaebum pointed out.

“Well I give a shit now,” Jinyoung snapped. “But perhaps that’s a difficult concept for  _ you _ to understand.”

Jaebum stepped closer, his anger building, only to be stopped by Jinyoung pressing his hands into him and shoving him backward again.

“Don’t touch me,” he warned as he wrenched his arm out of the grip of the boy glaring daggers at him.

“Alright, you two.” The curt tone of Yoongi’s voice cut through the air between them. “You’re not going to fight, take a step back.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaebum watched Jinyoung cross his arms and smirk. The former tensed again, wanting to do something - anything - to put Jinyoung in as much pain as he felt, but was stopped by Yoongi’s fingers biting into his shoulder.

“Take it outside,” he told them both with a nod towards the door.

Jaebum huffed and begrudgingly walked out of the house, Jinyoung a couple of steps behind him.

They walked to the edge of the lot, where the throbbing music from the party faded into a dull hum and the only other noise was the chirping of the summer cicadas in the dewy grass. Jaebum stopped and listened to the soft, unsteady padding of Jinyoung’s boots on the ground behind him, before turning around. The younger ceased his walk in front of him too and the two stood in silence, watching the other at the moon shone high in the sky above them.

“I’ll ask you one question,” Jaebum spoke, his voice tight with the effort of maintaining a reign on his temper. Jinyoung’s eyes bore into his, causing his chest to grow heavier with each passing second.

“Why? Why do you hate me so much? Why do you warm up to me only to turn around and spit in my face a moment later? It was stupid but-” Jaebum paused, a sigh escaping from him. “-I kind of thought we were getting somewhere. I thought we could move on from old grudges and stupid fucking exam results, but I guess not.”

Jinyoung was the first to break their eye contact, dipping his head low as Jaebum watched him, his heart still racing after his outburst.

“It was never about those exam results,” Jinyoung said after a moment.

“Then what?” Jaebum demanded. He was getting more and more frustrated at the lack of answers. “What did I ever do to you? What fucking happened that meant you had to hate my guts?-”

“I fell in love with you!” Jinyoung exploded.

Jaebum froze where he stood, heartbeat in his ears. Jinyoung’s words hung as thickly in the air as the humidity did. His eyes shone without their usual glint and his cheeks were stained a flushed pink (from alcohol or his outburst, Jaebum couldn’t quite tell) and his chest was rising and falling as he panted softly.

“It was never about those exam results,” Jinyoung repeated. “For the longest time I thought it was, and maybe at the start it was, but after a while, it really made no sense, don’t you think?”

Jaebum was still too stunned to respond with anything more than a nod.

“I guess I just clung to an excuse to hate you because, well, hating you was easier than loving you,” Jinyoung said.

Jaebum nodded again in understanding, though he doubted the younger knew that.

“So there,” Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “My big secret is out, what’re you going to do about it? Punch me until you feel better? Growl until I shut up?”

Jaebum just smiled out of the corner of his mouth, “We’ll figure something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... so there we go?? Idk I'm not really that happy with it but whoop. We're getting towards the end of this fic too huhuu :'(
> 
> Thankyouthankyou again to everyone who's ever read/subscribed/commented on this fic ilysm you have no idea <3


	17. That's What Boyfriends Are For, Right? (FINALE)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which memories, feelings and old grudges are restored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short notes if you don't wanna read the long one at the end:
> 
> Thank you so much you all mean the world to me! I hope you enjoy this final chapter (please don't be mean in the comments I am a smol sensitive bean uwu ilyasm)

Jinyoung awoke groggily the next morning with the biggest hangover he’d ever had in his entire life. The back of his throat was scratchy and stung every time he tried to make a noise. He rolled over onto his back with a groan, wincing at the pain, and opened his eyes to blurrily make out the off-white colour of his dorm room ceiling. Jinyoung’s brows furrowed in confusion, he didn’t remember going home last night, or really anything about last night at all. He remembered it was Hoseok’s house party, a friend of Youngjae’s, who unsurprisingly, was the entire reason Jinyoung had dressed up and gotten wasted in the first place. He remembered meeting with Mark and Jackson who told him about Yugyeom and Bambam’s new relationship (though it wasn’t like _that_ had been a surprise). He remembered dancing and drinking and…

Oh.

Jaebum.

Jinyoung mentally rewound his memory, trying to find the answer to his quickly tightening stomach. Drinking, Jaebum’s arm over his shoulder, fighting, the moisture of the grass seeping into his shoes, Jaebum’s face when he-

He sat up so suddenly he rocked the old wooden frame against the floorboards, but Jinyoung barely noticed amongst the wave of nausea that washed over him and the pounding in his head. He shut his eyes and groaned, cursing his past self as his chest constricted painfully. He stayed like that, dizzy and hurt, wanting to scream at the world for his own stupidity until finally, he decided he’d rather not die an arduous death of dehydration.

Weakly throwing the covers off of his body, Jinyoung pushed himself out of the bed (reminding himself a little of Frankenstein’s monster rising from the dead) and hobbled over to open the blinds. He grimaced at the harsh light that now had full access to his room and had begun to turn the white interior into a blinding minimalist wonderland. Jinyoung realised he hadn’t left his phone on his bedside table like normal (how could he? He couldn’t even remember how he got home) and commenced the search for his silver device. He found it under his bed face down next to one of his boots five minutes later. He breathed a sigh of relief when he turned it over to find the screen still intact and turned it on.

Jinyoung was greeted with the sight of a home screen full of notifications, a few from Mark, a few from Jackson and Youngjae too. He checked the time at the top of the screen: 2:20pm. He’d slept through more than half a day, thank god it was a Saturday. Shaking his head, Jinyoung elected to ignore all the messages and turned his phone off, throwing it onto the unmade covers of his bed before making his way out to the bathroom.

He paused in front of the mirror, taking in the rumpled bed hair, bruised under-eyes, and pale skin. Jinyoung looked just about as good as he felt. Splashing water on his face, brushing his teeth and emptying a glass of water only improved his state by a minuscule amount. He took one last look at his reflection, ruffled the messy black strands on his head with a hand but decided, fuck it. He didn’t particularly feel like seeing anyone today anyway.

Jinyoung was making his way back to his bedroom (spending the whole day in bed and brooding about his life seemed like a very appealing option right about now) when a sharp rap on the front door echoed through the small studio apartment. He considered pretending he wasn’t home but reasoned that whoever had decided to disturb him was a good idea, should see the atrocity that had become Park Jinyoung over the last half an hour. Hopefully, he’d disgust them enough that they’d leave.

So with newfound determination to potentially scare his neighbours, he stumbled over last night’s jacket to reach out a hand and swing open the door to greet whoever awaited him.

He did not, however, expect to see Jaebum standing on his doorstep, and he was sure the expression on his face said as much. Jaebum was sporting a pair of black jeans and a loose white top, his rumpled dark hair the only indicator that he’d experienced the same night that Jinyoung had (though perhaps to a lesser degree).

“‘Barely even drunk’, huh?” Jaebum chuckled at the younger’s appearance.

Jinyoung groaned, “Why are you here?”

Jaebum simply held up his phone in his hand, “You didn’t respond to my messages. Didn’t respond to _anyone’s_ messages, actually.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Jinyoung muttered sarcastically, glancing down at his shoes to hide the immense eye roll occurring beneath his fringe.

When he looked up, Jaebum raised his eyebrows before laughing softly.

“Alright, come on, get dressed, run a comb or something through your hair- I’m assuming you haven’t eaten anything yet?”

Jinyoung blinked at the sudden barrage of questions, sluggish brain slowly trying to process their meaning.

“What?”

“Someone’s got to get you out of the house or you’ll shut yourself away and never talk to anyone again,” Jaebum stated matter-of-factly.

Jinyoung couldn’t do anything but stay silent, it did sound an awful lot like what he’d had planned for the rest of the day.

“But why you?” Jinyoung asked, realising too late just how rude it sounded.

“Because, currently? I’m the one who cares about your wellbeing the most,” Jaebum shrugged. “And that’s saying something; Jackson sent me a very hysterical phone call at eight this morning. Honestly, did he really expect anyone hungover to be awake before midday?”

“No?” Jinyoung guessed, before sighing, “I’m still so confused.”

Jaebum’s face softened, “Well fuck, you really are hungover,” he observed unhelpfully.

“What gave it away?” Jinyoung rolled his eyes again.

“Well for starters you look like a mess, you woke up at two-thirty in the afternoon and by the sounds of it, you remember nothing of last night.”

“I remember a little bit…” Jinyoung mumbled defensively. “Though it didn’t involve you coming to my flat.”

“You clearly don’t remember anything, then,” Jaebum fired back amused.

“Alright, since you want to hear it, yes I remember confessing to you!” Jinyoung threw his hands out wildly for emphasis. “Worst mistake of my life, to be honest,” he added with an attempted hint of humour.

“Yes, and you’ve clearly forgotten the part with my own confession.”

Jinyoung laughed (as in, genuinely barked) in Jaebum’s face as he uttered those words. When the elder didn’t correct himself, Jinyoung transitioned into a stage of shock, partially at what Jaebum had said and partially at the fact he couldn’t remember such an important piece of information. Finally, he smiled at, for what seemed like the first time Jinyoung’s entire time of knowing him, Jaebum.

The latter laughed, the two moles over his eye crinkling in the process, chuckling at nothing and everything. Too giddy and hungover to organise what on Earth was happening, Jinyoung watched Jaebum between his own bursts of laughter, watched as the sunlight filtered through the dark locks atop his head and the grin that graced his face. Jinyoung really didn’t know how he’d managed to convince himself for so long that he didn’t find Jaebum as truly and outstandingly beautiful as he did.

Their moment was interrupted by a chime on Jaebum’s phone, followed half a second later by an identical one from Jinyoung’s. Both of them raised their eyebrows at each other, before each reaching for their phones.

Reading the notification preview, Jinyoung’s heart plummeted and his stomach tightened; final results for the lab report, and with it, their final rankings for the year. He looked up again to meet Jaebum’s eyes, which held the same nervousness, even if it was quite intricately hidden behind a mask of carelessness.

Jinyoung unlocked his phone, waiting with bated breath as the white screen loaded to show the two sets of results. He scrolled down to his name, huffing slightly when he saw his report grade. Though he could hardly say he was surprised, fifth seemed pretty fitting for the assessment he’d completed the night before. Their end-of-year results were scaled on a separate page at the very bottom.

 

  1. _Im Jaebum_              _95_
  2. _Park Jinyoung_ _92_



 

Jinyoung looked up from his phone to find Jaebum already staring at him, awaiting his reaction.

“Are you upset that I beat you?” he asked when the younger made no effort to comment.

Jinyoung shook his head, “No.”

“Oh?” Jaebum seemed genuinely surprised, an action that made Jinyoung giggle. “Why not?”

“Because, I have you now.”

Jaebum paused in disbelief before laughing and looping his arm over Jinyoung’s shoulder, “Sure, Jinyoung-ie. You tell yourself that.”

“I can always cheat off of you, y’know,” Jinyoung grumbled from his position under the elder’s arm. “That’s what boyfriends are for, right?”

“Not this one.”

“Well, that’s too bad. I guess I’ll have to go find myself another one.”

“No way,” Jaebum tightened his hold on the younger.

“Yes, way.”

Jaebum sighed.

“Now what?” Jinyoung asked, watching as Jaebum paused in thought.

“I’m here to get you out of your flat,” he said. “And I suppose you do still owe me a coffee from that lab report.”

“The lab report that I failed?” Jinyoung asked incredulously.

“Okay coming fifth is not a fail,” Jaebum rolled his eyes.

“Says the one coming top of the class,” Jinyoung retorted. “How do I know you didn’t try to cheat me into doing bad so you’d come first?”

Jaebum merely laughed, his breath fluttering over Jinyoung’s cheek at their proximity. As if sensing their closeness too, the elder leaned in, connected their lips and pulled away, so quickly that Jinyoung’s sluggish mind could barely register what happened.

“Get me that coffee, Park.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I have so much to say ahdkjsah.
> 
>  
> 
> Okay *inhales*
> 
> Thankyouthankyousomuch to everyone who has ever clicked, read, kudos-ed, commented or subscribed to this fic it means the absolute most to me and I'm sure every writer can relate. Literally any and every little thing makes my day.  
> Special special thanks to @dglrd who is literally the sweetest human being on this planet and I don't deserve okay bye ily.
> 
> This fic has been a journey, one that I'm proud of in parts and perhaps not so much in others. But regardless I'm so overwhelmingly happy and no doubt I've gotten heaps more experience for the future.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this last part, tbh I'm super nervous about it, ik it's not the greatest and I apologise if it doesn't live up to your expectations, my future works will definitely benefit from all I've learnt from this fic.
> 
> Speaking of future works: I do have plans for possible fics in the future, but I do think I will be taking a bit of a break just to properly plan them out and also because I need a moment without constant writing. A fic does take up quite a lot of effort and I need that down time for a while. But I will be back, so don't worry!
> 
> Thank you all so so so soooo much again you have no idea how much this has meant to me wow okay. Thank you for reading this shitfest of a fic, I wish you all the very best!
> 
> ♡♡♡


End file.
